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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368761">Wisps and Wants</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubble_bones/pseuds/bubble_bones'>bubble_bones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ariwyn and Solas [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, NSFW, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:01:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubble_bones/pseuds/bubble_bones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But his eyes do not leave her face. She doesn’t want to read too deeply into it, perhaps he was just distracted. Distracted? Creators, that makes it sound like she’s more interesting to look at than the wisps. Which is untrue, absolutely untrue. Any sane person would be staring at them. Anyone with even half of Solas’ fascination in the Fade would be watching them - yet he’s looking at her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Lavellan/Solas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ariwyn and Solas [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007619</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ariwyn stumbles across a dream in the Fade, one in which Solas is surprised to see her in. Being alone gives them time to discuss what their relationship has become since the collapse of Haven. </p><p>-</p><p>Aka Solas and Ariwyn's first time being intimate. Prior to this, Ariwyn is a virgin. Somehow, my smut has become little trios of fics; I've already finished all three parts so keep an eye out for more!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>━◦○◦━◦○◦━ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟━◦○◦━◦○◦━</p><p>The place Ariwyn's in doesn't really feel familiar. She doesn't recognise anything about her surroundings, yet she doesn't feel compelled to go. <em> Something </em>here wants her here. And so she wanders for a while; amongst the trees and the undergrowth, which is probably the only part of this that she feels confident navigating. It reminds her of home; of wandering with her clan and never having a road to follow. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually she spies a stone wall amongst the greenery. It is grown over and covered in ivy, but it's a wall nonetheless; she rounds it and finds more, one with an archway leading to a dark place she can't quite see the depths of. Yet for whatever reason it doesn't feel dangerous, even if she's not armed. And so she goes inside; carefully descends the stairs that are cold against her bare feet. As the light of the outside world fades away to the blackness of the ruin, it grows silent save for the sound of her feet against the ground. She feels along the walls to guide her, taking turns and corners and being careful to never be turned around. And eventually, she's rewarded for her perseverance with a distant glow. </p><p> </p><p>Ariwyn draws closer and realises she recognises it, even from across the hall. It's veilfire, burning bright and illuminating the whole chamber. There's not much to be seen here; it is a simple cavern built into the stone, a few carved pedestals meant to hold things long since gone. Yet, the boring nature of the chamber isn't what strikes her - it's the man standing with silent observation to the chamber near the veilfire. His back is to her. </p><p> </p><p>"What is this place?" she asks softly. </p><p> </p><p>He immediately jumps. Turns, alarmed, as if surprised to see her here. Despite his confusion, he swiftly manages to regain a look of calm composure upon his handsome face, though his frown remains. </p><p> </p><p>"Inquisitor." Solas greets, but answers her question with one of his own, "How are you here?" </p><p> </p><p>She blinks, and comes closer. From here she can see him better in the green glow of the veilfire, admire the angles of shadow cast upon his sharp jaw and chiselled nose. </p><p> </p><p>"I thought you brought me here," she mumbles, glancing around. She certainly didn't choose to come here to this dark and damp ruin. "Did you not?" </p><p> </p><p>"No." he says simply, though he regards her with a curious look. "Fascinating," he decides, "You must have come here of your own accord. Have you had training in dreamwalking?" </p><p> </p><p>"Not at all. I'd never even thought it possible until you showed me. At Haven, when we…" she flushes, turns away. Yet she can't help but glance up at him once more to see how he might react - there's a small smile upon his lips. </p><p> </p><p>"You mean when you kissed me?" he teases, and she can't help the twitch of her own lips. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes. And when you kissed me back." </p><p> </p><p>Solas chuckles, turning once more to observe their surroundings. As if to distract himself from their conversation. "I told you, did I not? That things in the Fade felt far easier, and natural for me?" </p><p> </p><p>She nods. "Yes you did," she smiles, coming to stand beside him and mimic his stance by folding her arms behind her back. "What are you looking for?" </p><p> </p><p>"Hm?" he hums, seemingly very caught up in staring at something in the air. Perhaps his sight is simply very keen, and he's caught up watching a mote of dust. </p><p> </p><p>"You're looking for something. What is it?" </p><p> </p><p>He frowns, and finally tears his eyes away from the wall. "You cannot see them?" </p><p> </p><p>"See what?" </p><p> </p><p>If anything, his brows dive deeper. "Even more curious. You made your way here and yet you cannot even see the very purpose of this place's existence."</p><p> </p><p>Her impatience is rising. Evidently there's something fascinating going on here, he wouldn't be standing here for nothing. She wants to see too. </p><p> </p><p>"Describe it to me?" she settles on. </p><p> </p><p>"Very well." his focus returns to the air; she watches his gaze follow <em> something </em>trace a pattern. It's not a consistent pattern. It is natural and fluid, like a river. "They are wisps. Brilliant creatures; fragments of a spirit not long broken against its nature. When a spirit is turned against what it should be, yes it can become a demon. Some spirits, however, are too pure to become anything other than broken memories of what they embody."</p><p> </p><p>How she wishes she could see what he does. Why can't she? In her frustration she steps closer, tries to capture what he does with her own sight. But there's nothing here but the shadows cast by the veilfire. Giving up she returns her focus to him. To his elegantly sculpted nose and his fine brows, his plump lips set in a firm line. She remembers what those lips tasted like, even if only in a dream. She flushes. It was a dream they both had - she wonders if he remembers it with the same fondness she does. </p><p> </p><p>"What do they look like?" she whispers. She has given up looking for them - her eyes remain trained on his mouth, more eager than she perhaps should be to see it move again. </p><p> </p><p>"Fantastic." he murmurs, so caught up in his fascination. "They are like little stars; motes of energy and power and magic. So intrinsically wonderful and endlessly interesting. I often come here simply to watch. One day they will form into a new spirit entirely; I hope I can be here to see it." </p><p> </p><p>Her lips curl upward with a bittersweet pang. "I wish I could see them," she sighs, "They sound lovely. I'd give anything to see a spirit born like that." </p><p> </p><p>Solas scratches at his chin. Turns away from his focus, glances briefly at her, and then the veilfire. It burns away in the brazier at their backs. </p><p> </p><p>"Veilfire possesses the ability to reveal magical energies hidden within the physical world," he says, "Yet here, perhaps it obscures such things to the untrained eye. Do you trust me, Inquisitor?" </p><p> </p><p>She cocks her head. But she's smiling, despite her silent question. "Yes." </p><p> </p><p>He offers her his hand, palm upturned. Very briefly she takes a moment to appreciate it; pale skin and long slender fingers, curled up elegantly and invitingly. She places hers in his, and his fingers curl around it. And then, he waves his free hand over the brazier. All at once the flames die out and the room plunges into immediate blackness. </p><p> </p><p>Ariwyn doesn't mean to but her hand instinctively squeezes his. She steps closer too, and she feels the brush of his fingertips against her shoulder. She doesn't much like the dark, anymore, not after Haven; crawling through those dark and icy tunnels alone, fearing the death that chased her with a ravenous appetite. In the quiet darkness there she hears her own breaths come through heavier than she thought, the pounding of her heart in her ears. His thumb rubs a delicate, soothing line across the back of her hand. It does not do much to help quell the racing of her heart. Instead, she thinks it does quite the opposite. </p><p> </p><p>"Do you see them, Inquisitor?" he asks. His voice is low and breathy like a whisper, breath hot in her ear. She's starting to think the dark was a bad idea for an entirely different reason, but is grateful for its efforts to mask her rosy cheeks. He's so close; delicious musky smell of herbal and woodsy natures clinging to his sweater mere inches from her face. It's intoxicating. She forgets, for a minute, that he'd asked her something. </p><p> </p><p>She forces herself to turn away from his chest. To blink into the darkness and squint, to try her damndest to make out something. At first there’s nothing, and she almost gives up with a sigh of defeat. But then, a hint of <em> something </em> - a splash of colour against the dimness of this old chamber. It’s like a firefly, she thinks; the longer she stares the more brilliantly bright it becomes, a small, humming spark of light and warmth. Then, she blinks, and when her eyes open again there are hundreds of them. All swarming in the sky above, dancing and fluttering weightlessly and freely. A gasp escapes her, and a short laugh of disbelief. How had she never seen anything this beautiful before? So alien and so mysterious - and yet simply <em> beautiful</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Solas, they’re wonderful.” she whispers, as if raising her voice any louder would startle the little things. “All of these were just one spirit?” </p><p> </p><p>“I do not know.” he admits, and she’s surprised to hear he does not have an answer, for once. She doesn’t mind, though. “Perhaps they were once many individual spirits. Wisps do not choose to remain together once its entity has been divided; they roam and they wander, and collect in packs. In places like these, where the Veil is thicker, it is safe for them to coalesce into one again.”</p><p> </p><p>She hums. “The Veil is thicker here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Which is why I was surprised to see you here. For one not trained in dreamwalking, it is impressive you made it this far alone.”</p><p> </p><p>His words inspire a smile to her lips. She loves it when he says such things; it is not her ego that swells when he compliments her, but the warmth in her chest. He gives them so much more readily when they are alone. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you know what spirit they’ll become?” she murmurs, determined to return her focus to their conversation before her thoughts take her elsewhere. </p><p> </p><p>Solas shakes his head. “Not yet.” he says, “But all of these wisps feel… Light. Hopeful. I would not be surprised if one day they became a spirit of a gentle nature. Benevolence, or Compassion, perhaps.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like Cole?” </p><p> </p><p>He hums. “Yes, like Cole.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes roam free from where she had been studying the wonderful display of light and magic above them. Instead they go to where he still holds her hand in his own; clasped between them with an unspoken promise to keep her safe against the dark. And yet the dark has long since left her mind, and nor is it a problem any longer, what with the wisps to provide a faint but pleasant aura of a dim glow. Cautiously, she squeezes his fingers again. Not in fear or need. But a gentle reminder that he’s holding her - maybe as a suggestion to let her go, if he wishes to. Yet he doesn’t. Seemingly unconsciously, his fingers squeeze back.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you bring me here when you think the wisps will become a spirit?” she asks, “I want to see it too.”</p><p> </p><p>The cool blue-grey of his eyes are alight with amusement when he glances down at her. “Perhaps you will have mastered the method in which you came here on your own by then, Inquisitor.” he jokes. “But if not, yes. I will show you how to reach this place again. We may nurture the wisps together, if you like.”</p><p> </p><p>Something sparks in her stomach. Something akin to delight; the suggestion of <em> together</em>, the implication of him willingly beside her… She smiles, and hopes she does not look too giddy at the suggestion.</p><p> </p><p>“I would like that.” she says gently, with a nod. </p><p> </p><p>His lips ease into a smile of his own. It is gentle, but enough to crease the corners of his eyes just slightly. She prefers these creases to the ones in his forehead when he frowns. Whenever he does she simply wants to reach out and smooth his brow and make his worries vanish. It is not her place to, she always has to remind herself. A kiss does not give her such a right, as much as she wants it. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for showing me this.” she says coyly, glancing up once more to the wisps above. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. They’re beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” he agrees, “They are.”</p><p> </p><p>But his eyes do not leave her face. She doesn’t want to read too deeply into it, perhaps he was just distracted. <em> Distracted?</em> Creators, that makes it sound like she’s more interesting to look at than the wisps. Which is untrue, absolutely untrue. Any sane person would be staring at them. Anyone with even <em> half </em>of Solas’ fascination in the Fade would be watching them - yet he’s looking at her. So deeply into her eyes she fears if she blinks she might break his concentration. Her heart has suddenly started beating harder against her ribcage. </p><p> </p><p>“Is there something wrong?” comes her quiet and unsure question. She hopes there isn’t. She hopes he’ll say no, that there isn’t even the slightest thing out of place. That he’s intended for this, willed her giddy heart to race with a simple look. </p><p> </p><p>“Not at all, Inquisitor,” Solas responds in a steady voice, quite unlike how her heartbeat feels. “I was merely…” then he sighs. Gives up on his sentence. Finally their eye contact breaks when he looks away, and she feels her stomach sink when he slides his hand free of her grasp. “I should not encourage this. It would be kinder to both of us in the long run if I kept my distance.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand.” she murmurs, “Did I do something wrong? Did you not like the kiss?”</p><p> </p><p>Surprising her, he chuckles. “On the contrary, I quite enjoyed it.” he decides to focus his gaze upward, to watch the wisps once more as he speaks. She has never quite seen his throat before, tucked away under the collar of his sweater; from here she can see pale skin and taut muscle, pulling and relaxing as he talks. It's alluring to watch. There’s a sigh first before he continues. “You are leader of the Inquisition; I should not put your responsibilities in jeopardy simply for a bit of distraction.”</p><p> </p><p>“Distraction?” she echoes, uncertain. “You think you’re a distraction?”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs dismissively, “Perhaps. What else would I become? Is that not what you desire from this, Inquisitor?”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a deep frown pulling on her face. Is that what he thought of her? Is that what he thought when she kissed him? When she got so caught up in his beautiful words and beautiful smile, when she threw all caution to the wind and lost herself in his lips? Surely not - surely he’s noticed the looks of longing she throws his way, the respect and admiration she has for him, the wonder in the way she watches him when he goes off on another tangent about the Fade, or an obscure but particular school of magic. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want a distraction.” she mumbles. Somehow his words have hurt, probably far more than he intended. She feels unsure now - perhaps she should go. But her heart is twisted up and she wants to say it, finally, get it off her chest. “You wouldn’t be just a distraction to me, Solas, you’re <em> not </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>His neck straightens. He glances downward at her with a firm expression, brows drawn tight. </p><p> </p><p>“Then what would you ask of me?” </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t know. What should she say? <em> I have feelings for you and they’re getting worse every time you look at me? </em> or blurt out something similarly embarrassing, like admitting she appreciates the feeling of his magic barriers a little too much. She sighs. Her hands twist together in front of her nervously and she freezes when she spots his eyes flash to them. It’s a habit she’s needed to break ever since she was appointed Inquisitor, but has had no such luck. Especially not when she feels so vulnerable around him already that guarding herself against nervous ticks was almost impossible.</p><p> </p><p>“If…” she chews on her lip. She’s going to regret asking this when he turns her down. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”</p><p> </p><p>It gets a reaction out of him, at the very least. He’s taken aback, blinks once, then twice, struggles to keep his calm composure about him. Then he casts his gaze aside.</p><p> </p><p>“I do not know if that is wise.” he says, though his voice sounds strained.</p><p> </p><p>Her lips twitch. “I didn’t ask you if it was wise,” she teases, “I asked if you would.”</p><p> </p><p>When he makes no attempt to consent to her request, her face falls. She goes to chew her lip again, and her stomach roils in torment. She knew she shouldn’t have asked. It was her, after all, that kissed <em> him </em> the first time. But he kissed her back! He kissed her back with force, and passion, and desperation. Like a man drowning breaking the surface, and she was the air he needed. Evidently he enjoyed it, as much as she did - so why is it so hard now?</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” she whispers, rubbing at her arm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought-” she cuts herself off with a sigh. “I’ll leave you alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Swiftly his hand catches her arm. She stops in place before she can even take a step, her breath catching in her throat as he comes close. As she finds herself pressed into the hardness of his body, face so close to his she can feel the uneven breath leaving his parted lips. Yet he doesn’t kiss her. It’s sweet torture, being so close yet feeling so far. </p><p> </p><p>“You did not make me uncomfortable,” he tells her. The soft pads of his fingertips find the edge of her jaw, and his hand comes to cup her cheek. His touch is warm, and oh so welcome; she leans into it, eyes fluttering half-lidded. “It is unwise - all of this. We should not grow closer.”</p><p> </p><p>“But why?” she realises her voice sounds too close to a whine; and she bites her tongue. She scores her mind for a better way to word her wishes. “This is what I want, what you want. I know you do, Solas. So why are you insistent that it’s better we remain apart?”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes squeeze shut. She reaches up and squeezes his hand with her own; tries to show him she appreciates this, even if it is but a simple touch. She wants so much more but if this is really how it has to be… If he truly decides he does not want her, then she has to forget this. She has to, otherwise every thought will be consumed by him. Perhaps it would be kinder to let whatever this is go. To her mind, but not her heart. </p><p> </p><p>Then his eyes open. The usually-calm and cold grey of his eyes are alight with something different, something <em> new </em>. Warmth and desire, melted steel that burns a hole straight through any notion of leaving this behind she might’ve had. Her fingers dig into his, as if to plead him to stay exactly where he is. Creators, he’s so close; soft, inviting lips mere inches from hers. The soft glow of the wisps above cast delightful shadows across his face. </p><p> </p><p>“You tempt me in ways I did not even think possible,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. It sends a shiver down her spine, one she hopes is not too obvious. Unless he’d enjoy knowing the effect he has on her - in which case she hopes it is<em> very </em> obvious. “I will kiss you now, Inquisitor. That is what you wished for, is it not?”</p><p> </p><p>She nods - Gods, that wasn’t too eager was it? - and her heart feels fit to burst from her chest. The moment in which it takes him to draw her face to his feels like forever, as if time itself has splintered into fractions of itself, like the spirit into wisps. But then his lips brush hers, just softly, at first. A soft hum of delight, a noise she hadn’t meant to make, leaves her, and she presses up on her toes to push back against him. Maybe she should stop being so pushy, stop being so demanding, but… He pushes back. Twines an arm around her waist and responds with a firmer, more satisfying kiss. Her fingers twitch, catch ahold of the back of his neck, hold him to her. She doesn’t want to let him go. Part of her is so afraid that he’ll break away and tell her that it’s wrong again. </p><p> </p><p>But he doesn’t. The warm tip of his tongue brushes her lips and she allows him entry, shuddering at the feeling of his coming up against her own. There’s a breathy whisper that leaves him before he comes to her again with an open-mouthed kiss; it’s elven, she realises, though the meaning is completely lost on her. She tries to save it for later in the back of her mind, but she’s so caught up in him. In his touch, in his lips and tongue, in the absolute blissful feeling of knowing her affections are returned, and readily at that. His tongue caresses hers as his hands caress her jaw and her spine, pressing her flush against him. He is gentle and sharp all at once, yet slow and patient. It is unlike their last kiss, hasty and greedy and passionate. There is no shortage of passion here, no; but he is slow and attentive, as if her lips are the newest canvas for his brush to touch. </p><p> </p><p>"Solas," his name tumbles from his lips in a breathless whisper. She's lost in him, forgetting the world but him and his touch. Fascinated by the caress of his lips and the manner in which he's fulfilled her request. </p><p> </p><p>She finds her legs backed up against one of the old pedestals. They must've been used for display, once; for stunning art or relics of worship. But now he sits her upon it, and under the light of the wisps, he studies her like she belongs there. His eyes, beneath his crumbling, guarded facade, betray him; there's a desire in the steely grey that warms up the pits of her stomach. He comes to kiss her again and she moans against him. Creators, where did he learn to kiss like this? It's enchanting. </p><p> </p><p>Her breath hitches in her throat as his lips find it. They graze her skin with gentle kisses, but it's enough to make her quiver in his arms. There's something inside her that's beginning to twist up into knots and she's wary that it's desire of the same breed in Solas' eyes. Would that be too much? Or just right? All she knows is that she wants it - sooner or later, she does not mind. </p><p> </p><p>"Inquisitor," he murmurs against her skin. </p><p> </p><p>Her face is flushed not only from his gentle ministrations, but his use of her title. "Don't call me that," she stammers, "I have a name." </p><p> </p><p>"I apologise." he says swiftly, and presses a kiss underneath her jaw that turns her upward to see the wisps once more - if her eyes were open. "Ariwyn," he corrects, and she shivers, "May I touch you?" </p><p> </p><p>"T-Touch me?" </p><p> </p><p>She feels his fingers resting upon her knees. Oh - oh, Dread Wolf take her, he means <em> that</em>. Creators, that's exactly what she wants. And he's offering it? But… She's uncertain. Is there something she should know? Or do? She nods, hesitantly at first, then more firmly. </p><p> </p><p>There's a tug at her waist as his fingers deftly undo her belt. Then, the lacings of her trousers. Her heart is pounding violently in her chest. His lips on her neck was already spreading fire throughout her entire body - what would his touch <em> there </em> do to her? She shivers and bites her lip as he runs his fingertips up and down her thighs, edging closer and closer to the apex with every run. After a moment of silence, broken only by her little pants for breath, he presses his hand against her through her clothes and she gasps. His fingers rub ever so gently, but it's enough to <em> feel</em>. Creators, it already feels good. </p><p> </p><p>Then he tugs again at the waistband of her trousers, and teases his hand inside. She realises she's holding a breath in anticipation; her whole body tensed for it. Certainly, she's familiar with her own body, having spent lonely and curious nights exploring what reactions could be caused by touch alone. But no one else has ever had that experience. And nor has she ever felt what it was like to have someone else please her. It's a nerve-wracking wait as he runs his fingers across the skin of her belly, and then into her smallclothes. </p><p> </p><p>"<em>Solas</em>!" she whispers in surprise. She knew it was coming and yet it still gets a gasp to tumble so easily from her lips. Her brow pressed to his, nails dug tightly into his neck, she fears she may be showing off her inexperience too much for how exaggerated every reaction seems. Yet he has voiced no concern. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes?" he questions, as if she had simply asked his name, not gasped it in pleasure. "Is there something amiss?" </p><p> </p><p>"N-No. I…" she bites down on her bottom lip as his fingers delve downward. To part her folds and push gently against her bud, to begin a slow and patient circle about it. "Creators…"</p><p> </p><p>He hums thoughtfully. "We simply kissed, Ariwyn," he says, "And yet you are so wet with want."</p><p> </p><p>She tears her eyes open to glance at him. To see if she isn't imagining the husky lust in his voice, to see if it's evident on his face too. It is in his eyes; dark and heady, examining every inch of her face as his fingers tease her entrance. A little mewl leaves her, and the corner of his lips twitch. </p><p> </p><p>"If we are not careful," his voice is low and simply dripping with desire, enough to make the heat between his fingers even slicker with her arousal. "Then we may encourage the wisps to become a spirit of passion." </p><p> </p><p>Her lips smile of their own accord. "Would that be so bad?" </p><p> </p><p>"No." he considers, and presses a soft and gentle kiss to her lips. "Perhaps we ought to teach it some valuable lessons. Wouldn't you agree?" </p><p> </p><p>She hums a yes, which swiftly breaks off into a heavy moan as the moment of his fingers quickens. They encircle her clit in such wonderful, toe-curling ways; ways she's both surprised and pleased to know he's very quickly applied to her body. She pulls him to her and kisses him with a severe need, to feel his tongue on hers and hear the groan that tumbles from him from the harsh grip on his shoulders. Creators, he's good at this. It's as if the times she's spent doing this alone suddenly have no value anymore. </p><p> </p><p>Once more his fingers delve a little lower, apply a little more pressure. And then one of his fingers gently slips within her hot walls, and she lets out a small yelp of surprise. Immediately, he stills. </p><p> </p><p>"Ariwyn?" he murmurs against her lips, before he raises his head to look upon her face. "You are… You have done this before, correct?" </p><p> </p><p>She chews on her lip. When no answer comes from her immediately, something akin to horror crosses his face. His hands withdraw from her immediately, and her face falls. </p><p> </p><p>"I-I am sorry. I should not have assumed, I-" </p><p> </p><p>Swiftly, she cuts him off with a kiss. When they part, there's a smile tugging at her lips. </p><p> </p><p>"It's okay," she whispers. "I want this. I want you."</p><p> </p><p>He looks at her with such a strong uncertainty. "Why did you not tell me?" he asks. It causes a little wash of shame to hit her - she knows she should've said something. </p><p> </p><p>"Because I…" she can't look at him. His piercing eyes are staring at her and she can't formulate a good answer. "I was shy. Women my age have usually…  I didn’t want you to stop. I didn't want you thinking I was too afraid." </p><p> </p><p>Solas' fingers tap at her chin. He turns her upward to look at him once more, and she very almost melts under his gaze. </p><p> </p><p>"You should not be ashamed of anything, Ariwyn. Least of all your honour." then his hand moves, to soothe her jaw and draw her close. "I would not think any less of you had you told me sooner. I do not think any less of you now."</p><p> </p><p>Her hands twist together in her lap. "Then why is it a problem?" she mumbles. </p><p> </p><p>For once, he appears tongue-twisted, and doesn't answer at first. When he does, it is preceded with a small chuckle. </p><p> </p><p>"Because it has been a long time for me," he says, "And I wish for your first experiences with such intimate matters to be pleasurable and memorable. I fear I might struggle to provide such things to you."</p><p> </p><p>She blinks, stunned. He thought she wasn't pleased? What part of her moaning into his ear wasn't indicative of her pleasure? It is her turn to turn him up to look at her and smile. </p><p> </p><p>"You were doing a pretty perfect job a few minutes ago." she mumbles shyly, and runs a finger along his jaw. It is hard yet his skin feels so soft under her touch. "And… Surely this simply means we can learn together?" </p><p> </p><p>His eyes light up. She knew he'd be intrigued by a suggestion of academic pursuit, even if it was of a more suggestive nature. Yet he still hesitates. He pauses at first, frowns. Then, he presses a swift kiss to her lips. </p><p> </p><p>"You are certain?" he asks. "You are certain that you wish for these experiences to be with me?" </p><p> </p><p>How many times does she have to say it? It doesn't really matter - she'll say it as many times as he needs to be assured. </p><p> </p><p>"Absolutely." she agrees, and returns his kiss. "I would enjoy nothing more." </p><p> </p><p>Solas breathes softly against her. For a moment, he's lost in thought. Yet when she shifts so that she can squeeze her legs together - in some attempt to relieve the tension there - he's suddenly reminded of her mood. </p><p> </p><p>"Would you wake, Ariwyn?" he asks, and she's taken aback. Wake up now? When she's needy and wanting, and he's right here? "I do not wish for your first experience to be in a dream. I want to show you, if you'd have me." </p><p> </p><p>She flushes. "You'll come and find me, won't you?" she asks. </p><p> </p><p>"Without hesitation." </p><p> </p><p>A smile creeps onto his lips. It's enough to encourage one on her own. </p><p> </p><p>"I would not leave you so desperate for long," he promises, and she shivers as his hand rubs along the inside of her thigh. "Wait for me in your chambers." </p><p> </p><p>"What about the wisps?" </p><p> </p><p>He frowns at her, and then laughs. She's so surprised by his reaction that she can't help but laugh too. </p><p> </p><p>"The wisps will stay as they are," he promises, "Do not worry. They are safe here." </p><p> </p><p>"Good." </p><p> </p><p>"Then you have no more concerns?" </p><p> </p><p>She smiles. "None." </p><p> </p><p>"I will see you soon then. When you wake up." </p><p> </p><p>━◦○◦━◦○◦━ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟━◦○◦━◦○◦━</p><p> </p><p>Ariwyn wakes with a start. She's sweating, hot and bothered, face flushed. Creators, was that real? It had to be real. It was so vivid and so… She pushes the duvets back and tries to cool in the icy air of the Frostbacks. Yet there's an obvious desire residing within her body. She feels it as readily as she had in her dream, and still it's unsated. With a little groan she slips her fingers between her legs testingly, and gasps when they come away glistening. That dream can't have just been in her head. She can't have imagined something that would get her this worked up. </p><p> </p><p>She clambers out of bed and paces, trying to cool off her pent up desires. She could easily take care of them herself, but she hopes that if she waits long enough, she'll prove her dream real if Solas comes. If not, she'll have worked off most of it with this endless walking and desperation to think of anything <em> but </em>his fingers in her heat. To her balcony doors she goes and throws all of them open in an attempt to cool off the air. Gods, it's far too hot. </p><p> </p><p>When she thinks she might just give up and take care of her desire instead, there's a faint knock. She stops and listens, as if to check she didn't mishear. Sure enough there's a second knock when the first gets no response. She almost barrels down the stairs to answer it without a thought, but that would be careless. What if it's Josephine or Cullen, coming to her with dire news of an emergency in the middle of the night? She forces herself to practise a bit of patience, despite the raging need in her belly, and finds a nightgown to wear over her shift. Then, and only then, she goes down the stairs and opens the door. </p><p> </p><p>"Good evening, Inquisitor." Solas greets politely. "I believe you were expecting me?" </p><p> </p><p>A sigh of relief leaves her. She crushes herself up against him and kisses him fiercely, <em> hungrily</em>, humming in agreement when his arms wind around her waist. Then, he breaks apart from her with a chuckle. </p><p> </p><p>"Perhaps we should at least go inside." he suggests. It's an innocent enough idea, but her mind and needy body is focused on only one thing right now, and the mere suggestion of going <em> inside </em>anywhere makes her flush. She nods, and entwines her fingers with his as she leads him inside. "You were not waiting long, I hope?" </p><p> </p><p><em> Too long</em>. She almost says. Instead, she shakes her head with a smile. One that's inherently teasing, and she knows he can tell immediately. </p><p> </p><p>"No, but imagine I was…" she murmurs as they reach the top of the stairs to her room, "What would your excuse be?" </p><p> </p><p>His brows raise. "I was not aware I was being timed." </p><p> </p><p>She squeezes her thighs together. It's too subtle for him to notice. </p><p> </p><p>"You told me you'd be here <em> without hesitation</em>." she jokes. </p><p> </p><p>"I did." he agrees. Something inside her is relieved at his admittance - it wasn't just a wet dream her head had conjured up. They'd shared it again. "But I found I had fallen asleep at my desk and had left things in something of a… Disorganised mess. If I had simply left it, it would have raised questions, no doubt. I do not know what your opinion is of the rest of the Inquisition knowing, just yet."</p><p> </p><p><em> Knowing</em>. Knowing about them. This little… Whatever it is. All she knows is, despite his lame excuse, she's still as needy as she had been in the dream. And he's still as enticing as before, with that seductively cool voice and even cooler eyes. Eyes that are looking her up and down, she realises. </p><p> </p><p>"Are you not cold?" he asks, jerking his chin to the open balcony doors. "Such air would surely suggest more layers are necessary." </p><p> </p><p>"I don't need the layers." she says with a shrug. "I'm already plenty warm enough." </p><p> </p><p>He comes to her. Her stomach flips with excitement and she steps to meet him halfway. Yet he doesn't do anything, at first. He doesn't kiss her or touch her. He doesn't even attempt to flirt. Once again, he appears uncertain. </p><p> </p><p>"You are sure of this?" he asks once more. "<em>I </em>am who you want?" </p><p> </p><p>"You make it sound like you're a bad candidate." she teases. When he doesn't deny the suggestion, she rolls her eyes, and sets a hand on her hip. "Are you seriously undermining my decision?" </p><p> </p><p>"I-" he catches himself when he sees the teasing glint in her eye. He plays along, instead. "No. Of course not, Inquisitor." </p><p> </p><p>She smiles. "Then, Master Solas," she murmurs as she closes the gap between them, "I'll ask kindly that you finish what you started. I've been waiting so very long up here." </p><p> </p><p>"I thought you were not waiting long?" </p><p> </p><p>A small laugh escapes her. "It felt like an age." </p><p> </p><p>"Then I apologise for forcing you to wait for me with such want." he murmurs, and a breath catches in her throat. <em> Yes</em>, she thinks needily. Want for him, want for his tongue and his fingers and his undivided attention. </p><p> </p><p>His hand settles at her waist, first. Then drifts forward to where the belt of her gown holds it closed. It comes away with ease, leaving her once more only in her thin shift. Instead of touching her, anywhere, he decides to take her chin in his hand. Bring her up to him to kiss her lips. It is just a simple kiss, but it leaves her breathless and wanting more. </p><p> </p><p>"I will pleasure you tonight, Ariwyn, so that you will find some relief." he murmurs, voice velvety and low. "But that is all. I would not ask more of you while your judgement is clouded by desire." </p><p> </p><p>The burning between her legs seems to be only worsening with every silky word that leaves his lips. She presses herself up on her toes to kiss him. </p><p> </p><p>"Please." she whispers. "I can't take it anymore." </p><p> </p><p>She shudders as his fingertips only barely graze her shoulder. Gods, she's never felt any desire quite like this. Certainly, she's found men attractive or considered what true intimacy would be like. But she's never realised how visceral it is; this burning need inside her that's desperate to be let out. His hand trails to her neck, to guide her forwards to meet him in a soft and gentle kiss. She's impatient, clutching at his chest and fidgeting on the spot. Does he not realise how mad he's driving her? </p><p> </p><p>"You should be comfortable," he decides, and she hums in question, barely hearing his words through the haze clouding her senses. "Come, lay down."</p><p> </p><p>He gestures to the bed but she doesn't want to go alone. She takes his hands in hers and steps backward til her the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. The nerves in her stomach are being easily overpowered by her excitement, this need and desire for relief that he's promised. He kisses her again, slowly and - most likely unintentionally - torturously. </p><p> </p><p>She breaks away from him, chews on her bottom lip. "You're driving me insane." she mumbles, clutching tight at the soft fabric of his sweater.</p><p> </p><p>"I apologise, it is not my intent." his breath is hot on her skin, and it does nothing to cool her already raging warmth. "What do you wish of me, Ariwyn?" </p><p> </p><p>She isn't sure. What does she want? His fingers again, certainly, but it's hard to make the words leave her mouth. It's like she's tongue-twisted even though she knows how to respond. Like she's shy of saying it aloud. </p><p> </p><p>"I-I don't know." Ariwyn whispers, and fights the urge to let go of him to squeeze her own hands together. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes are burning into her with some unspoken want. A longing and care she's scarcely seen in his eyes before. Gods, she needs to kiss him. <em> Right now. </em> And so she does. Throws her arms around him and pulls him down to her, kisses him with an urgency that matches the torment in her belly. He responds in the like, with the very same desperation he'd kissed her with at Haven - no, in the <em> dream </em> of Haven. Like a man starved. He devours her lips as if she's the first and last woman he'll ever get to kiss. She realises, only now, that this is the first time they've ever been so close when not in a dream. She's never held him so close, the <em> real </em> him, not just a fragment of him in the Fade. He's solid and warm, panting breaths against her mouth and fingers firm against her spine. Creators, her need is beginning to <em> hurt</em>. </p><p> </p><p>She takes his hands and guides them down. Over her hips and to her thighs, where he seems to understand; his hands gather the loose fabric of her shift and draws it up. He only breaks their kiss briefly to tear it up over her head and discard it on the ground behind him. It is so unlike him to be so careless, and it excites her. </p><p> </p><p>He speaks, though it is so breathy and whispered through his lust that she barely hears it. "Nuvenan rodhe mar." he murmurs, and she flushes. Does he mean…? Creators, he surely doesn't. And yet he presses against her shoulders and guides her back to sit on the bed. Presses a soft kiss to her lips and then trails them downward; one to her jaw, one to her throat; one to her collarbone, another squarely on her chest. Her breath hitches as he changes course, ventures to the peak of her breast, and his hot breath fans over her. He starts with a gentle kiss, but it's enough to get a sharp gasp to tear from her. And then his lips part and his tongue flits across her nipple - a shock of pleasure shoots through her to her very core. She digs her fingers into his shoulders, hands shaky. For a while he stays there, paying equal homage to each of her breasts with tongue and hands. She's shuddering in his grasp, breathless little gasps and moans leaving her with every single motion he makes. </p><p> </p><p>"Please," she whispers, "Please, Solas, I need-" </p><p> </p><p>"I know, Inquisitor. I know." </p><p> </p><p>The use of her title here is so redundant, yet she hears the playfulness in his voice. </p><p> </p><p>"If you must stop," he tells her sternly suddenly, and she frowns. "If for any reason it becomes too much, you will tell me." </p><p> </p><p>It isn't a request. She nods. What other option was there? Would he leave her like this, bare and needy, if she'd said no? It's a simple reassurance to him, she thinks, and if that is all it takes, she's perfectly fine to agree. </p><p> </p><p>She takes his face in her hands and leans down to him for a quick kiss. Or, at the very least, that is what she had intended. He savours it, a slow caress of his tongue against hers, a low and quiet hum in his chest. He withdraws and for a moment, merely looks upon her face. Then, his eyes glide downward over her chest, across the expanse of her stomach and down to the patch of hair between her thighs. She bites her lip. Why does she not feel coy under his gaze? Being examined by him like she's something fascinating and appetising all at the same time only strengthens the need inside her.</p><p> </p><p>"You are beautiful," he tells her, and the warmth in her heart blossoms and a smile jumps onto her face. It is so overwhelmingly flattering that for a moment, she almost forgets her desire. She simply wants to kiss him and tell him the same, to hold him for as long as he will let her. But then she feels his fingers on her thighs and suddenly she remembers. She lets out a little gasp when his hands slowly and gently ease them apart. </p><p> </p><p>Her breath keeps hitching at the lump in her throat. His eyes remain locked with hers as he bows, and with expert ease, guides one of her legs up, to hook over his shoulder. His lips, feathery light, dust across the inside of her thigh. It becomes so hard to think – does she need to? How could she think, with a man like this between her legs? Creators, he’s <em> between her legs</em>. Her thoughts enter a panicked scramble.</p><p> </p><p>He offers her a smile. She has not seen anything quite like it before on him; it is almost devious, teasing. Their eye contact does not break when he returns his lips to her skin, making the slow journey up her thigh. Her heart pounds. Finally their eye contact breaks when she feels his breath on the apex of her thighs; she isn’t sure who closes their eyes first. It might’ve been her, in some sort of anticipation. Whatever it is, it’s not an immediate reaction. He kisses her, like he might her lips. She squeezes the sheets between her hands.</p><p> </p><p>Then, she feels his tongue. Minutes ago that same tongue had been in her mouth. Now, she feels it drag across her sensitive clit, and a high gasp tears from her without her consent. She’s barely caught her breath before he does it again, and the same shudder ripples through her. At first the movements had been slow, careful; testing. Now, from that first reaction, he learns. It takes only a few mere moments until it feels like he knows her body better than she does; his tongue moves in ways that echo a pleasure through her she has never known before. Amidst her gasps for breath, she lets out a moan. It is louder than she means.</p><p> </p><p>“F-Fuck,” she pants. A little yelp leaves her with a particular brush of his tongue, and her legs tense. “Creators, Solas… It feels so good.”</p><p> </p><p>Solas does not respond, at least not with words. He does with a hum, pleased by her pleasure; a deep and low rumble that she feels against her. Gods, is this really happening? She’d certainly imagined working up the courage to kiss him again, to even simply bring up a question of their uncertain relationship. But this? How had she never imagined <em> this</em>? The part that shocks her the most is not her boldness in plucking up the courage to do this with him, no not at all. It is the fact that Solas - <em> Solas</em>, the quiet and passive apostate mage who garners a polite respect from those around him, is the one eagerly between her legs. Solas, who speaks in beautiful, learned language, speaks with a ferocity about his beloved academia and the Fade. That very same ferocity is now being used to please her, a hungry tongue in her heat and lovely slender fingers digging into her spine. </p><p> </p><p>He devours her, laps up her arousal and pleasures her until she can’t take anymore. With a broken moan she jerks her hips against him, and her back arches. Her high slams over her in a crashing wave, and she collapses to the bed, crying his name to the sky. Creators, release has never felt this <em> sweet</em>. For what feels like a wonderful eternity after the initial hit, she’s still panting over every shudder of fulfilled lust that crackles through her veins. And then it begins to settle, slowly. Her skin is shiny with sweat yet she’s suddenly hit with a shiver of the cold air. When finally his touch becomes too much, he does not even require her to tell him; she feels him withdraw without even having to look. </p><p> </p><p>“Ariwyn?” she hears him breathe. Feeling utterly spent, she forces herself up to her elbows. He’s still kneeling before her. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, and comes up to meet her. </p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” she hums in delight. When he sees the lazy smile on her face, he seems relieved.</p><p> </p><p>He matches it with one of his own. “I feared you’d already fallen asleep.” he admits, and she laughs. “Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>His concern warms her chest. </p><p> </p><p>“More than alright.” she says with a nod. She presses a kiss to his lips, and can taste the faint trace of her own lust on him. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>For a moment he does not respond. Then his gaze flashes up to hers, and she sees the usual calm and collected manner on the surface of his cool grey eyes. And though he’s smiling, they look… <em>Sad</em>. She frowns, and cups his face in her hands.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong?” she whispers. “Was I not meant to thank you?”</p><p> </p><p>Then his melancholy breaks with a short chuckle. “You did not have to.” he tells her. “But I am glad to see you are sated. It would not have been well to have left you alone to battle such lust.”</p><p> </p><p>Her face flushes. “But what of you?” she asks, fully aware that he is still fully clothed, and certainly has not had his own lust <em> sated</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“You need not worry about me. You’ll find I am quite good at paying no heed to my own desires.”</p><p> </p><p>“But-”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Do not ask it of me, for I will not give it.” he soothes some loose hairs behind her back, and offers her a gentle smile despite his stern tone. “I came here only to satisfy you. I have no concerns for my own needs, and I would not ask that of you. I told you, did I not? That I would do no more than I promised?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but…” </p><p> </p><p>He certainly did, and butterflies dance about in her stomach at the idea of learning how to pleasure him. Even she, in her position or inexperience, knows any good relationship is built on a concept of giving and receiving in equal measure. And yet he is firm on this, and she sticks out her bottom lip. </p><p> </p><p>“If not tonight, when?” she murmurs. He’s smiling, just softly. </p><p> </p><p>“When you are ready.” he says, and before she can open her mouth to tell him she <em> is</em>, he presses a finger to her lips, “And not when you are already tired. I’m fairly certain you have a meeting with Ambassador Montilyet early morning, do you not?”</p><p> </p><p>At the mention of anyone’s tiredness, a yawn takes over her. She’d forgotten, if but a little while, about everything; about the Inquisition, the looming threat of world domination by an ancient Tevinter magister who claimed to have entered the Golden City itself. She goes to joke about it, but catches her tongue. He’d said the very same thing earlier; that he’d become a “distraction” to her duties. She decides to keep it to herself. He doesn’t need more reasons to discourage this, whatever <em> this </em> is. </p><p> </p><p>“Rest while you can, Inquisitor.” he tells her, and with a gentle kiss to her brow, he rises. Goes to the balcony and shuts the doors; lights the fire in the hearth with a lazy gesture. He doesn’t go immediately. He comes back to where she still sits, chewing on her lip at the edge of her bed. </p><p> </p><p>“Must you go?” she murmurs. Perhaps it would be a bad idea for him to stay; she’d probably get excited again, and try in her eagerness to push him beyond his firm line. Then again, she doesn’t really want to be alone. </p><p> </p><p>“I suspect all of Skyhold would figure out quite quickly that there is something between us if I were to leave your chambers in the morning.” he says. Of course they would, there are eyes everywhere here, even in the safety of the Inquisition’s headquarters. She assumes from that that he would rather it not be public gossip. She wouldn’t really mind, so long as she knew for sure where they stood with one another. After all, they may have kissed and… other things, but that is no guarantee that it meant as much to him as it did her. </p><p> </p><p>She sighs. “Alright. Goodnight then, Solas. And thank you.” she adds, quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“You need not thank me.” he says again with a chuckle. “In fact I quite enjoyed it. So perhaps it is me that should thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>The brief, mischievous glint in his eyes inspires a smile on her lips. Before he truly goes, she jumps to her feet and catches him, draws him back one last time for a final kiss. He is gentle and loving, and a warmth spreads right down to her toes from his lips. </p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight, vhenan.” he says with a smile. It only widens when the recognition kicks in - of what he’d called her. Her heart flutters, and she’s stunned silent. Unable to think of anything else to say, she watches him go, mute. </p><p> </p><p><em> Vhenan</em>. <em> My heart</em>. Her own is still thumping in her chest as she sinks down against her bed, the sheets all disorganised and messy from where she’d clutched at them moments before in raw passion. Surely she had not imagined him call her that. Did he truly mean it? She’d only heard that endearment amongst her clan, between lovers, or life-long bonded partners. </p><p> </p><p>Creators. She hopes when she wakes tomorrow, this won’t have all been a dream.</p><p>━◦○◦━◦○◦━ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟━◦○◦━◦○◦━</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Elven translations:<br/>Nuvenan rodhe mar - I wish to taste you <br/>(cobbled together from various words and phrases from Project Elvhen, I hope it actually makes sense? lol)</p><p>-</p><p>I'm still pretty new to writing smut, so please let me know if you enjoyed it with a kudos or comment &lt;3 </p><p>Find me on tumblr under the name bubble-bones for more Dragon Age/Solas love!</p><p>Also check out my Ao3 for other Solavellan fics I have written: When in Orlais, a WIP smut short and The Hunt, a much longer fic!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>━◦○◦━◦○◦━ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟━◦○◦━◦○◦━</p><p>Ariwyn is having a splendid morning. </p><p> </p><p>Despite… Certain events last night, she'd woken early, feeling at the top of the world. Perhaps those very events were the cause. Regardless, she was up and ready to face whatever the world threw at her and ready to throw back. She'd been at her meeting perfectly on time, spoken with Josephine at length at various relations between the Inquisition and their allies - as well as potential allies. She realised maybe she was allowing her happiness to shine through a little <em> too </em>much; Josephine had to ask her at least twice what had gotten her in such a happy mood. She'd simply brushed it off as down to a good night's rest and rolling out of the right side of bed. </p><p> </p><p>Then she'd actually gone straight to the courtyard where she knew Commander Cullen was due to be training a handful of soldiers. The only reason she knew was because it was a few new recruits, farm hands or young city boys unaccustomed to the holding of a sword - just like her. So she got stuck in, and instead of feeling shame at her failures, brushed them off with good grace and made some friends amongst the young soldiers. Cullen actually even <em> thanked </em>her afterwards for her abysmal display for how it inspired them; knowing even the mighty Inquisitor made mistakes helped them get over their own, he said. </p><p> </p><p>As Inquisitor she had some chores to take care of that morning. Namely checking in with various names in Skyhold, chatting with the new merchants, checking the progress of her plants in the garden - okay that one wasn't really necessary, they had gardeners for that - and generally trying not to be a nuisance in lending a helping hand. Perhaps Josephine would throw a fit at her for doing small jobs around the castle, but she doesn't mind. Whilst people might have placed her on some big important chair and gave her a fancy sword, that didn't change her desire to help the <em> little people </em> as Sera would say. </p><p> </p><p>And then when she's forced herself to "work" enough to placate her conscience, she decides it is time to make a beeline for Solas. </p><p> </p><p>Obviously, she tries not to make it too apparent she's in a rush. She stops to chat to Varric in the great hall; observes the progress of the restoration of the mosaics on the walls. Greets a few visiting dignitaries and nobles, without entangling herself in too deep a conversation that would make a mess without Josephine keeping an eye on her. Then, casually, she drifts through the short hallway to the rotunda. </p><p> </p><p>He's busy. Of course he is, he usually is. But that has never stopped him from talking to her anyhow. For a while she simply stands and watches; there's something so satisfying in watching Solas work. In standing by in contented silence and simply looking, observing every masterful brushstroke and calculated decision. She doesn't want to interfere, but the giddy excitement bubbling in her stomach prompts her to finally speak up. </p><p> </p><p>"Hello." she chirps, chewing on a grin. He blinks out of his concentration, and despite the thin paintbrush in his teeth, she spies a hint of a smile in his lips. He takes it from his mouth with pale fingers splattered with various shades of orange. </p><p> </p><p>"Good morning, Inquisitor." he says, polite. </p><p> </p><p>"Afternoon." </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry?" </p><p> </p><p>She bites back her laugh. "It's past noon." </p><p> </p><p>"Ah. Of course, time has escaped me." he backs away from the wall, glances once over his progress. His fresco is coming along nicely, covering a chunk of the blank wall of the rotunda with a tasteful yet mournful interpretation of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and a stylistic recreation of the Inquisitor's sword turned downward into a splash of warmth and guarded by two wolves. And then a rather grim and grey depiction of the free mages' recruitment to their cause, a strange colour choice considering his approval of her decision, yet she cannot hope to argue with a master's artistic licence. </p><p> </p><p>"Got lost in your painting again?" she asks as she comes closer, joining him to study his latest addition in closer detail. It's Haven, she thinks, though she isn't sure. She holds in the shiver that threatens to overcome her at the memory of it. Gods, she really was crazy enough to bring a whole mountain down on top of <em> herself </em>. Perhaps it's a good idea she has advisors now. </p><p> </p><p>"Indeed." he chuckles, and his eyes narrow as he studies his work, as if making notes. "I should pay closer attention to the time. I told myself only an hour when I began this morning." </p><p> </p><p>"I say that about those delicious little cakes the kitchen bakes." she jokes, but when he quirks a brow at her, she flushes and hastens to explain; "I always say, just one more. Then the whole tray is gone." </p><p> </p><p>"Aha." his lips are twitching. "You are suggesting my work is comparable to baked goods then, Inquisitor?" </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes go wide. "Creators, no. I do adore those little cakes, but your paintings…." she lets out a wistful sigh. "They're something all their own."</p><p> </p><p>"I am glad I have your approval, then. When Ambassador Montilyet first walked in on me painting the walls, I would've sworn I would sooner lose my head to her than the Templars." </p><p> </p><p>She barks a laugh. But her smile fades when she sees a stern look on his face - a warning. She bites her lip. </p><p> </p><p>"I possess no qualms at familiarity, Ariwyn," he says, lowly, "But perhaps we ought to practise some restraint. Do not look now, but Dorian is watching us." </p><p> </p><p>Her lips form a small "o" shape and she tries to relax into a more casual stance. Leans against his desk but thinks it might be <em> too </em>casual, and tries to play it off as she studies the various documents and tomes scattered across its surface. Now she looks comfortable. Damn it, she's not good at this. </p><p> </p><p>"You would rather it's a secret, then?" she murmurs. When at first he does not appear to hear her, he comes closer for her to repeat it. </p><p> </p><p>"It is not for me to decide, Inquisitor." </p><p> </p><p>She swallows a lump forming in her throat. She'd always been taught that love was something to be celebrated, not hidden away. And what she feels in her chest when she looks at him certainly feels like love; heart-wrenching, awe-inspiring, shit-eating-grinning love. She doesn't want to hide that. But she isn't certain, again; he seems to think it's a better idea for the world not to know, at least for now. If that is what he thinks, then she will defer to his judgement. As much as she doesn't want to. </p><p> </p><p>"I…" she coughs to clear her throat, rights herself. "I think I'll leave you to your work. I've taken too much of your time already." </p><p> </p><p><em> No you haven't </em> , she thinks in irritation, <em> You've only just got here </em> . He seems to think the same from the quizzical twist of his brow, but he does not suggest otherwise. But suddenly she feels despondent; like her whole morning has meant nothing. The very same love that had inspired her to enjoy the day is now crushing her with a need to curl up into a little ball. She feels silly. He's probably right and it probably is for the best that for now, it remains between them, while they figure out what <em> between them </em>is. Yet her mind won't let her forget last night. Won't let go of his velvety voice calling her, "vhenan," and she curses it. Perhaps she expects too much too soon. </p><p> </p><p>"Is it afternoon now?" </p><p> </p><p>She jumps, and a yelp of surprise leaves her without her consent. With a flush of horror, she claps a hand over her mouth, and turns to glare at the sudden third, uninvited member to their conversation. Between the neatly stacked books on Solas' desk, Cole is squatted, head clocked and a frown on his pursed lips beneath his wide-brimmed hat. </p><p> </p><p>"Cole, <em> please </em>stop just… Appearing like that!" she pleads, pressing a hand to her chest. "It's scary." </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I forget." he says. </p><p> </p><p>Solas comes to join her, a very small smile twitching at his lips. "It is merely the nature of a spirit to form at will in this manner, Inquisitor. It is no fault of Cole's." </p><p> </p><p>She runs a tongue over her teeth. "I <em> kno </em>w." she mutters. "I actually listen to the babbling stuff that comes out of your mouth." </p><p> </p><p>He looks at her with a curious expression. A little aback, she realises. She lets out a pent-up sigh, and shoots him an apologetic look. It was true, though; she'd already understood about as much of Cole's nature as he did, because she had listened to every one of his proposed theories. Whilst whoever else might have listened would've rolled their eyes or fallen asleep, she'd hung on every word. His voice is intoxicating when he gets caught up on a tangent. Thus his <em>helpful</em> reminder came across as more arrogant than anything else, and with her nerves already on edge, she hadn't meant to snap at him. </p><p> </p><p>"I wanted to come see." Cole says, simply. She frowns at him. "You were so happy. So bright like a star, I could see you from far, far away. Then suddenly sad. I want to help." </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes go wide. "Cole, please stop talking." she says quickly. "You can help me by not saying another word."</p><p> </p><p>"A funny way to help. Alright." </p><p> </p><p>She doesn't look away from the strange spirit-boy in front of her. Not up at Dorian who's still probably watching with a curiosity only suited to the nosiest of gossipers. And absolutely not at Solas, who she knows is staring at her. </p><p> </p><p>"I-" she coughs again. "I'm going for a walk. I'll leave you to it." </p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of her eyes, Ariwyn sees Solas nod. She wets her lips and quickly charges out - as fast as she can without running. She's already doing a fantastic job of making herself look like a lovesick fool, she doesn't need Cole helping her look even sillier. Leaving the great hall entirely, she decides to make a beeline through the garden and up onto the battlements. It's always very quiet up here, save for the occasional guard patrol, but by day they're usually quite lax. She supposes maybe she should talk to Cullen about it, but for the moment, it works to her advantage. </p><p> </p><p>Gods, it's cold. Surrounded by snow-capped mountains and an icy valley, it shouldn't be a surprise that Skyhold is perpetually freezing. Yet up here with no walls to protect her from the wind, it's evident how thin the fabric of her jacket is. Damn human tailors, weaving materials barely thick enough to cover whatever lies beneath. The Dalish do it right; sturdy and warm, no matter the weather. Maybe she'll ask Josephine if it's possible to recruit some Dalish makers to the Inquisition, for it would certainly help to make this place to feel more like home. </p><p> </p><p>She stands there, leant against the battlement wall with her arms for a while. The cold helps chase away her flush, and the time alone gives her a chance to organise her scrambled head. All morning she'd been so caught up in the excitement of getting a chance to see him, she hadn't actually considered anything at all. She hadn't taken the time to appreciate last night at all, for after he'd left, she'd promptly fallen to sleep, completely spent. That beautiful hidden ruin in the Fade, and those wonderful wisps that he'd helped her see; his mind-numbing kiss and his even more skilled fingers and tongue. She'd never quite felt a pleasure like it. And then, Gods, he'd called her <em> his heart </em>. Part of her thinks she'd dreamt it. </p><p> </p><p>Behind her, she hears footsteps. She doesn't even want to consider who it is. She hopes maybe it's just a patrol.</p><p> </p><p>There's no greeting. Solas simply comes to join her, and looks out across the mountains. </p><p> </p><p>"I spoke with Cole." he says. She groans, and buries her face in her hands. Of course he did. </p><p> </p><p>"I wish you hadn't." Ariwyn murmurs. </p><p> </p><p>"Why?" </p><p> </p><p>She chews on her tongue. "Because I don't… I already know how much of a fool I look, and Cole, bless him, doesn't realise how much further he's helping me stick my foot in my mouth." she glances his way, and sees the smile on his own. "Okay, bad metaphor. But it's <em>true</em>! I feel silly." </p><p> </p><p>He steps forward, tucking his arms behind his back as he studies her. In the midday sun, he's stunning. Captivating. The freckles on his cheeks are so much more evident now, and she wants to trace lines between them like an astrarium. </p><p> </p><p>"Might I inquire as to the reason?" he asks. It is an innocent enough question, had it been posed about anything <em> but </em>her feelings. </p><p> </p><p>"It's fine." she dismisses. </p><p> </p><p>His brow quirks. "It is?" he questions, "Cole had said you felt elated then swiftly the very opposite. Spirits of Compassion do not simply <em> lie </em>." </p><p> </p><p>For a moment, she ponders on what she should say. Being honest wouldn't hurt. Would it? It's possible <em> anything </em>now could hurt. Oh Gods, her thoughts spiral. What if now, when she tells him why, he tells her last night was a mistake? Like he told her their first kiss had been a mistake. She doesn't think she could take it. </p><p> </p><p>She sighs. "Alright. Last night was…" she swallows. Last night was wonderful. Incredible. Indescribable. The best night she'd ever had and all he did was please her. At the memory of it, it sparks a little hint of desire in her belly. "I enjoyed last night. Very much." </p><p> </p><p>Solas' head cocks slowly to the side. As if he is contemplating, trying to figure her out. </p><p> </p><p>"As did I." he admits. It's not something she had expected him to. And it only helps to add to the shameless and rising heat inside her. </p><p> </p><p>"I just… Dread Wolf take me, why is this so hard?" </p><p> </p><p>She's sure, just before she presses her fingers into her eyes, there's a sudden shocked silence in his. Had he not heard that phrase before? She almost laughs. It probably does sound peculiar, wishing for Fen'Harel to steal her away. </p><p> </p><p>"Alright, fine, I'm just going to spit it out so it's easy." she says with a sigh, and straightens up before him. "I want more. I don't want it to be a dirty little secret, I want you and I want you to want me. I think I'm in love with you already and I don't know if I actually do because I've never been in love before, and I'm rambling already. I'm nervous. Why can't I just say this nicely?" she heaves a breath. Then, quickly, as an added thought, she figures she might as well get it all off her chest. "Did you call me vhenan before you left last night?" </p><p> </p><p>Solas is looking at her funny. Not the she's-grown-a-second-head funny. Funny as in he almost looks amused, the hint of a smile on his face and little creases appearing in the corners of her eyes. What is funny? Surely he didn't find her little outburst charming. <em> Oh no </em> . Oh no, he isn't <em>that</em> stupid. </p><p> </p><p>"I did." he says simply. As if it is nothing to be shy of, a mere figment of pure truth. Her heart does a flip, and for a minute she doesn't believe him. </p><p> </p><p>"You did?" </p><p> </p><p>"I did." </p><p> </p><p>"<em> Oh. </em>" she whispers. "You did." </p><p> </p><p>"I take it by your reaction that the Dalish still frequent the term?" </p><p> </p><p>At first she doesn't respond. Absently she licks her lips, "Yes." she says, and struggles to regain her passage of thought. But she can't seem to consider anything else. <em> My heart </em> . Her? She's <em> his </em>heart? She did not think the title was given so freely. She'd always assumed that such an endearment was earned over many years, given only to the person with whom you trusted your very life. Did she truly mean that much? </p><p> </p><p>"I think I need to… Think." she manages to spit out finally. </p><p> </p><p>He's frowning when she spares a quick glance his way. </p><p> </p><p>"Would you prefer I did not call you as such?" he asks, and for once he sounds uncertain. "I… Merely wished to express how I felt. The common tongue feels so," he pauses, searches for the word to accurately describe it, "Messy." he decides on. "The Elven language is far more beautiful and descriptive, do you not agree?" </p><p> </p><p>Oh no, the more he says, the more her chest tightens. <em>How he</em> <em>felt</em>? If anything, now she feels doubly foolish than she had before the conversation began. Was she wrong for doubting him? Should she have kept her mouth shut? </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so-" she sighs, and finds she can't find the word she wants either. "I think I just need to go and think for a while."</p><p> </p><p>"Of course. Would calling for Cole help?" </p><p> </p><p>Quickly, she shakes her head. She's perfectly capable of detangling the mush of feelings clashing in her chest on her own. She just needs some time to organise them. </p><p> </p><p>"Thank you for being so patient with me." she mumbles. </p><p> </p><p>"You were nothing but patient with me, when I needed time to consider things." he replies. It settles the heaviness in her heart a little. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, and Solas?" she calls, as he turns to leave her to her silence. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, Inquisitor?" </p><p> </p><p>"I want you to keep calling me vhenan." </p><p> </p><p>A hint of a smile tugs at his lips. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, vhenan."</p><p> </p><p>And then he goes, and she must face the turbulent thoughts in her head. </p><p> </p><p>━◦○◦━◦○◦━ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟━◦○◦━◦○◦━</p><p> </p><p>By the time night's descended on Skyhold, Ariwyn's head is a little less jumbled. She'd taken the afternoon to attend to some mind-numbing tasks, signing off letters Josephine had demanded she do, and allowed her mind to consider everything. </p><p> </p><p><em> Does she love Solas? </em> Was her first question. She felt a little silly, like a young girl plucking petals off a flower and hoping the last one she pulls is a, <em> he loves me </em>! But she decides, yes, she does. Even if their intimate experiences together had been very few, and they are still hiding it from anyone else, she does love him. How else could she describe the tight clench her heart does when he smiles at her, or her undivided attention when he goes off on another tangent? Parts of him others find boring or arrogant she finds fascinating. And she wants to learn more; she wants to dig into his past and hear him tell her of his upbringing and how he'd learned magic; she wants him to teach her everything he knows about the Fade and Elven lore; she wants to teach him what she knows, and have him accept her opinions with good grace and a reasonable debate. Already it had happened on many occasions, and times where she thought she'd explode and lecture anyone else on Dalish culture, he simply purses his lips and lets her speak. He might not necessarily agree with everything she says, and the same goes for him, but they learn from one another. </p><p> </p><p>She'd always been under the impression falling in love was slow. It would happen over time and one day it would simply just feel right, like a good friendship. But she supposes, even with friendships you can meet a new person and simply click right away, like she did with Varric, and Iron Bull, even if they were the complete opposite of the type of people she had been used to before. It's the same for love she realises, as she dips her quill in more ink. It doesn't have to be slow and gradual; she didn't fall in love with him through any means other than his mind and his articulated speech at first. And now, all of a sudden, she feels like her heart is fit to burst if she thinks of him. </p><p> </p><p>Then she considers the Inquisition. Not the important things she should be worried about perhaps, what with the whole tear in the Veil above their heads. No, instead she considers the harm it would do if people knew about her and Solas. What exactly would change? Perhaps if anything Solas would be treated with a bit more respect as he should be. Then again, she doesn't even know <em> what </em> they are yet. He had called her his heart, kissed her with the love and passion that matched such a title like a puzzle piece. And yet she wasn't sure if her idea of vhenan matched his. Wherever he's from, whoever he learned Elven from - did they use the term casually? Does it mean something different to him? </p><p> </p><p>She sighs, realises she's made a mistake. Gods, would it be too obvious? She doesn't want the scribe to have to write this lengthy letter again. She purses her lips and considers it - maybe if she curls the r in Inquisitor a little more, the splodge of ink can look intentional. <em> Maybe </em>. </p><p> </p><p>While she's busy studying it, a voice calls to her. </p><p> </p><p>"Inquisitor," she glances up, and with a smile recognises Varric across the chamber He's keeping the door to the Great Hall open with his boot. Creators, it's noisy out there. "You wanna come grab something to eat with us? We're having a game of Wicked Grace." </p><p> </p><p>Wicked Grace. She'd never played that before, but she'd seen and heard Inquisition soldiers playing it in the tavern. It's a card game of a sort, but she doesn't really understand it. She thinks it's about bluffing and lying, but she can't see how that can be policed and kept fair. Maybe that's the point. </p><p> </p><p>"Sure." she says with a smile, "Let me just finish up here." </p><p> </p><p>"Don't take too long, the kitchen's just put all the food out. It'll get cold." </p><p> </p><p>She nods with a grateful grin, and he leaves her to finish off this handful of letters. Josephine had left her to it hours ago and so she'd occupied the Ambassador's office - the multitudes of times people had come in and started talking to her without looking up is reaching a both staggeringly and amusingly high amount. At least Varric pays attention to who sits in what chair. </p><p> </p><p>"Why don't I have an office?" she mulls as she scratches at her chin. "Maybe I should have an office." </p><p> </p><p>Certainly she has the whole tower to herself. But she's not exactly going to be greeting visitors in her chambers now, is she? Maybe they can look at finally tackling the wasted empty space in the stairwell of the tower. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, she reaches the bottom of the pile, and not a moment too soon; her stomach growls angrily at her. She stretches and gets to her feet. She tries to remember what day it is as she heads to the Great Hall - was it stew day in the kitchens, or "Orlesian" stew day? She shivers. She hopes not "Orlesian;" the kitchen staff, being wholly Ferelden, don't even seem to know what Orlesian food is meant to be, and so "Orlesian" stew always ends up tasting funny. Herbs and spices that should not be in a meat and vegetable hotpot. </p><p> </p><p>Still, she's certainly a lot less picky than some of the people here. She'll eat practically anything put in front of her without complaint. And that's a good thing, especially since she's hungry. </p><p> </p><p>She finds Varric at the other side of the Great Hall, at the end of one of the long tables. The <em> us </em> he'd spoken of is a cluster of her companions; Dorian's there, and so is Bull and Blackwall. As is <em> Sol </em> <em>as</em>. Oh Creators, if she has to speak to him in front of everyone else, how is she going to stop herself from mucking up? Maybe she'll have to stay straight-faced the whole evening to avoid accidentally smiling at him like a lovesick fool. </p><p> </p><p>"Inquisitor! Come, come, have a seat!" greets Dorian with a wide grin, patting at the empty chair between him and Varric. "We were just about to start. Varric, deal her a hand, won't you?" </p><p> </p><p>She swiftly waves her hands as she settles down. "Oh no, not yet. I'm hungry and I need to focus on my food otherwise I'll rip your faces off if I lose." she says, and gets a round of laughter in response. </p><p> </p><p>"<em> When </em> you lose." Bull corrects. She quirks a brow; he doesn't know it she's good at this game. Neither does she. He shrugs. "Sorry Boss, you just don't seem like the lying type."</p><p> </p><p>"I can lie." she says indignantly, as if it's something to be proud of. When it only gets more laughter, she bites her cheek to hold back her own smile. Creators, she sounds like one of the children in her clan, so sure of themselves that they can do what the adults can do. It usually turned out that no, they could not. </p><p> </p><p>So she fills up a bowl with stew - not "Orlesian," praise Mythal - and chews at a hunk of bread while Varric deals the lot of them a hand of cards each. Including Solas, she's surprised to see, who collects his cards between his fingers and studies them with a pensive gaze. Creators, she should not be thinking about his fingers. Those long, wonderful, slender fingers; capable of the most wicked things. </p><p> </p><p><em> Focus on the food, Ariwyn </em>, she tells herself. </p><p> </p><p>Bull is grinning. "Oh, you're all going down!" he laughs, not taking his eyes off his cards. "Ben-Hassrath are born and raised liars and killers. Unlucky for you, I'm as good at lying as I am killing." </p><p> </p><p>"Save the predictions until we actually start the game?" Blackwall mutters inattentively; he's also staring at his deck.</p><p> </p><p>"How curious." Dorian says with a cheeky smile. "You all think you actually stand a chance." </p><p> </p><p>The only two yet to make a taunt are Varric, and unsurprisingly, Solas. He doesn't even do it in the midst of battle; she sort of envies the perfect calm amidst the storm he can channel, focusing solely on his spell work; speaking only when to call out if he needs assistance or if their companions likewise are in a predicament. Even she's not immune to a good shout mid-fight, a jeer or a little shout in victory. She thinks it's thanks to being around Bull so much, who seems to revel in bloodshed. </p><p> </p><p>Varric seems eager to simply start the game. And with a simple call he begins. She's still digging away at her food when it does, but tries to pay attention to what's going on. Each of them appear to have only five cards in their hands; before anyone plays they decide to put forward bets. Only a handful of sovereigns for now - Bull's aghast by how small the bets are, but Varric tells him they're just warming up and the grin settles back on his face. She thought it is all meant to be about keeping a cool face and playing smart, so why was Bull smiling so readily? </p><p> </p><p>They take it in turns around the circle to "play" a card - or at least that's what Varric calls it. Only Blackwall chooses not to lay forward an upside-down card like the others and discards it, and takes another from the fresh pile in the middle. Solas does too. Though Ariwyn is, predictably, focused on his hands. On how he peels the card away from the pile deftly. On how it <em> looks </em>like he draws two, instead of one. No one comments on it, so she doesn't. If he's cheating, she certainly doesn't want to be the one to rat him out and ruin his play. </p><p> </p><p>It's so devious, though. His face is still straight and firm, completely unreadable. He's gazing at his cards and reads completely blank. And yet he's just <em> cheated </em>, with complete ease, and got away with it. She would never have taken him for a rulebreaker, least of all in a card game. For whatever reason, she feels something like desire pooling in her belly. She returns to her food and presses her legs together, feeling flushed. What a stupid reason to be turned on, she thinks with a scowl. Yet the same feeling she has now is the same one that hit her when he smiled at her last night; when his lips were grazing the soft skin on the inside of her thigh, eyes alight with delicious, devious want. </p><p> </p><p>Creators save her. Let her just finish this meal and try to learn <em> something </em>about this game. </p><p> </p><p>This round ends rather quickly. When it loops back around once more about the table, Blackwall draws a new card and curses. He slaps it on the table and there's a round of groans from the other players. At once, everyone lays down their hand flat on the table, and after a quick glance over, Varric decides that Dorian's won. </p><p> </p><p>"Hold on one minute," Dorian says with narrowed eyes and a smirk. He's collecting his new sovereigns into his hands, but he's eyeing Solas' hand. "You have six cards. You sly old fox!" </p><p> </p><p>Solas shrugs rather nonchalantly. "No one appeared to have noticed. It is no fault of mine you all paid no attention to your opponent." </p><p> </p><p>"I noticed." she says quickly. Everyone turns to glance at her, and it's her turn to try to shrug <em> nonchalantly </em>. It doesn't really work. "I saw him draw two but I didn't want to interrupt. The point is to cheat without being called on it, right?" </p><p> </p><p>Dorian and Bull grow simultaneous smiles. </p><p> </p><p>"You'd be good at this one, Inquisitor. You're picking it up quickly." the Tevinter mage says in approval, and Bull at the other end of the table agrees with a firm nod. </p><p> </p><p>She laughs and shakes her head, returning to her food. She certainly is <em> not </em> picking anything up quickly. She's too busy forgetting herself and watching Solas, and thinking about Solas, and <em> wanting </em>Solas. Gods. Her legs squeeze together. </p><p> </p><p>As Varric collects up the cards and begins to deal again, Ariwyn decides maybe she <em> should </em>try to learn. She pokes her spoon at the card Blackwall had lain in the middle, face-up. </p><p> </p><p>"What does that one mean?" she asks. </p><p> </p><p>"The Angel of Death," Solas says coolly, eyeing the card once. Then, back at her. "When it is drawn, everyone must reveal their hands immediately and the best hand wins." </p><p> </p><p>She purses her lips. "That seems boring." she comments, "Forcing the game to end so fast." </p><p> </p><p>"Some games go on for hours," Blackwall grumbles, thumbing the cards Varric hands him. "There's gotta be something to end the game eventually if the players can't." </p><p> </p><p>She hums. True enough, she thinks. Tearing off a little corner of her bread, she rolls it around in her mouth; she's absolutely not going to let Varric deal her a hand tonight. She'd make an utter and complete fool of herself. When she swallows, she runs her tongue over her lips to catch a little crumb she felt clinging to them. Then she notices someone is looking at her - from across the table, Solas' eyes are trained on her face. On her lips. As quickly as she notices, he looks away, but it's enough to make her flush. She can only hope she's not too obviously red. </p><p> </p><p>The game begins again. It lasts longer this time, with a higher stake in the form of more bets. It's so fascinating to watch, that as the game drags on, the longer each decision seems to take. The more each player studies their hand, and then subtly the faces of their opponents. Each player goes about it a little differently, she notices. Solas and Bull have impressive composure, in differing ways; Solas is serious and straight-faced, whereas Bull is forever smiling, but somehow it's no more telling than Solas. Varric keeps his chin in his hand, cards in his other; he's able to cover his mouth, which she's noticed has betrayed him with a twitch a few times. Blackwall's mouth doesn't have such a problem for his beard, it's his eyes that fail him; they light up when he's drawn something good, or his thick eyebrows come low when when it's bad. And Dorian… She cannot even begin to guess what his approach is. He's smiling, frowning, <em> humming </em>. And yet it's impossible to tell if each reaction is actually indicative to his current play. If a groan is actually a disguise for a good card, or whether it's legitimate. </p><p> </p><p>Finally when this game ends, it's because all players but Solas and Bull have given in to bad cards and bad luck, unwilling to bet higher. She's surprised that Solas is so sure of himself that he's putting forward more money against Bull. Her stew is long-since finished and her appetite sated - her hunger, anyhow - so she can watch this showdown with her full attention. </p><p> </p><p>Bull draws a card from the pile, but she can't tell if he took more than one. Solas plays a card and takes another. Did he take two? Creators, maybe she needs to learn more than the one way to cheat so this would be more exciting. Bull plays a card as well, and it continues until the both of them have played a handful. The cards are turned over and they all collectively lean over to see. </p><p> </p><p>"Bullshit!" Iron Bull yells, jumping to his feet. And despite his outcry - and startling some of the soldiers having their meal nearby - he's grinning from ear to ear. Maybe even horn to horn. </p><p> </p><p>"You will find, Iron Bull, that it is not <em> bullshit. </em>" Solas says with a smile that can only be described as shit-eating. "I won, fair and square." </p><p> </p><p>"Fair and square doesn't exist in Wicked Grace." Varric chuckles. Bull groans and seats himself again, and pushes the pile of coins with one large hand toward Solas. His eyebrows are quirked and there's a lopsided smile on his face that he's struggling to keep down. Gods, he looks so playful. Maybe she should watch them play Wicked Grace more often. </p><p> </p><p>"I need a drink." Bull grumbles, and though he's putting on the act of a sore loser, he's still smiling. "Hey, Boss, does your kitchen up here have the same drinks as down in the tavern?" </p><p> </p><p>"We are absolutely not drinking that godawful Qunari poison you chug by the barrel down there." she says firmly. "That stuff burns." </p><p> </p><p>"That's the point!" </p><p> </p><p>She rolls her eyes and gets to her feet. "Well I'll need one of you strapping lads to come help me raid the kitchen, then. They're stingy about alcohol up here." </p><p> </p><p>When no one gets to their feet, she huffs. </p><p> </p><p>"Really? Chivalry truly is dead." </p><p> </p><p>But this is an opportunity, she thinks with a smile. She slaps a hand over her eyes and pretends to wave a finger and stop at random. Obviously, it stops on Solas. <em> Randomly </em>. </p><p> </p><p>"Solas, you'll help me." she decides with a grin. One that's far too cheeky, she realises, and tries tone it down. But it's too late, everyone had spotted it. She tries not to think about it. </p><p> </p><p>"Certainly, Inquisitor." he says politely and rises from his seat. "Since none of these other gentlemen seem eager to help you." </p><p> </p><p>"I didn't see you volunteering." Dorian snorts. </p><p> </p><p>"I have no intention of drinking whatever we bring back." </p><p> </p><p>Dorian shrugs. "Your loss then, I suppose." </p><p> </p><p>With Solas at her side she leaves the Great Hall, and descends to the kitchens below the castle. In truth she loves being down here, assaulted with all sorts of delicious smells and the busy activity of the kitchen staff. Her favourite time to come down here is late at night however; she slips in, picks about at the leftovers from meal time and scurries back to her chambers with her midnight snack. The only time she's bumped into someone down here was when she was careless enough to forget - again - that Cole just appears at will. He was putting cheese out for the mice, apparently. It scared the air from her lungs.</p><p> </p><p>"This way." Ariwyn says with relative calm on her face - her giddiness is simply bubbling beneath her skin and begging to be let out. </p><p> </p><p>"I am fairly certain the cellar is-" </p><p> </p><p>"This way." </p><p> </p><p>This time she's more firm. Gives him a pointed look that makes him quirk a brow. But he does not argue again - merely trails after her with a confident gait and a smile playing at his lips. When they've made it past the bustling kitchen, she finds the nearest secluded corner she can. </p><p> </p><p>"Did you decide you no longer want a drink, Inquisitor?" he asks in amusement as he goes with her. Follows her into that little dimly-lit alcove, comes so close he backs her against the wall without even touching her. </p><p> </p><p>"Kiss me." she murmurs breathily, reaching out to touch him. Gods, he's so nice to touch. To feel the firmness of his body beneath his clothes, to run her hands up his chest and around his neck. </p><p> </p><p>"Is that a request?" he asks, as he steps closer. A little gasp leaves her, his thigh pressing up between her own. It's not enough to relieve <em> any </em> of her desire, but the gentle pressure is nice. His arms close around her head, and he cocks his head with something of a smile. A smirk, maybe. "Or an order?" </p><p> </p><p>"T-The second one." </p><p> </p><p>"You do not sound so sure." </p><p> </p><p>"It was an order." she says more firmly. Something flashes through his eyes - the same look of approval that he gazes upon her with when she surprises him with her knowledge or insight. </p><p> </p><p>He needs nothing more. She tilts her head back up against the cold stone wall behind and hums into his lips, soft and supple against hers. For a moment that is all he gives her; a gentle caress of his mouth on hers, languid and slow, as if he has to savour the very feeling and firmly burn it into her memory. Burn her soft moan into the back of his mind, the twist of her fingers on the nape of his neck, the shiver down her spine at the run of his tongue on her lips. Eagerly she parts them for him, meeting his tongue with her own as his delves between her lips. Her breath is coming in short pants now, and she realises that his is, as well. It's delicious music in her ears; hearing how she steals his breath away as readily as he does hers.</p><p> </p><p>"I-" she gasps against him, as he presses a little kiss to the edge of her lips. "Fen'Harel take me, I need-" </p><p> </p><p>"You do adore to invoke His name, don't you?" </p><p> </p><p>"Hm? Whose…?" she frowns, and then feels a heat creep onto her cheeks. She hadn't even meant to; consciously, she'd never even considered Fen'Harel to be a man. She cracks a wry smile. "Force of habit. I can whisper someone else's name entirely if you wish. Say yours, for example." </p><p> </p><p>At first Solas says nothing at all. He merely regards her with a curious look, one she doesn't quite understand. And frankly, she thinks it's killing the mood entirely. She sticks out her lip. </p><p> </p><p>"What? What did I say?" she asks. "Don't you like it when I accidentally mutter a god's name when my mind is completely clouded by something else entirely?" </p><p> </p><p>His brow quirks. "I thought the Dalish considered Fen'Harel to be a traitor to the Evanuris. I merely wonder why you would invoke His name, out of any." </p><p> </p><p>"It's not… It's a curse, Solas. Like how Varric says Andraste's tits or whatever." </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, I'm aware it's a curse. A curious one, but a curse indeed." </p><p> </p><p><em> Why the fascination? </em>  she wonders. He'd had a similarly strange reaction when she'd said it earlier by accident, too. Does the Dread Wolf offend him somehow? It makes her smile. </p><p> </p><p>"Would you rather I stop saying it?" she asks. </p><p> </p><p>"I would not tell you what you can and cannot say." </p><p> </p><p>Her smile immediately drops. It was a simple yes or no. And yet here he is, talking her in circles again. </p><p> </p><p>"What's the problem?" she huffs, folds her arms, and leans back against the wall. He doesn't move however, and it's no problem to her, for she can enjoy studying his face from so close. It's a face curled up into an interesting blend of a curious and playful expression that intrigues her. </p><p> </p><p>His fingers come to grasp her chin. Turn her upward so that he might see her better. </p><p> </p><p>"The problem, vhenan," he murmurs, lowly. She shivers, both from his velvety voice and his use of the endearment, "Is that you keep wishing for an Elven God to take you, whilst I expend all my strength in resisting that same urge." </p><p> </p><p>Her thighs squeeze together. It doesn't do much, for his knee is still between them - yet in response, it edges higher, presses firmly against her and she gasps, clutches to him. </p><p> </p><p>"Why don't you?" she whispers, needily. </p><p> </p><p>He comes close to kiss her. Only once, very gently. </p><p> </p><p>"Because I am waiting until you tell me you are ready." Solas says with a hint of a smile. "Giving yourself to another wholly in such a way is more meaningful than you realise, Ariwyn. I would have you certain before I take your offer." </p><p> </p><p>Her hips roll down against his thigh. He pressed against it with greater pressure, and she mewls against his lips. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm pretty certain right now," she breathes, biting hard on her lip to prevent the moan threatening to come out, "In fact I think I'm absolutely certain." </p><p> </p><p>He chuckles. "No. You will not make such a decision while so drunk with lust." she feels his fingers squeezing her hips, driving them down against his leg. Gods, the pressure, the sweet and subtle pressure, it's not enough. "I want you to decide when you are perfectly sober and collected, vhenan. I do not wish for you to come to regret joining with me." </p><p> </p><p>Regret? Why would she ever regret such a thing? Why would she regret laying with the man who looks at her like she's the brightest star in the sky, holds her as if she is both precious and priceless? Whose gaze alone is maddening her, and driving the surge of desire to rise and fall with his thigh between her legs? </p><p> </p><p>"I need-" she bites her lip. Why is it always so hard to word her desires? It makes her feel so coy. "I want…" </p><p> </p><p>He strokes her cheek with his fingers. "I know what you desire, vhenan, but I cannot give it here." </p><p> </p><p>She almost whines. "Then where?" </p><p> </p><p>"I will come to you tonight." he promises, and seals it with a kiss. "I will satisfy any wishes you desire of me. I am sorry I cannot fulfill them now." </p><p> </p><p>His thigh withdraws, and immediately she pushes her legs together. It doesn't do <em> anything </em>to quell her want. It's almost cruel, she thinks, and can fully understand his need to apologise. Leaving her like this feels like a worse punishment than never kissing her in the first place. </p><p> </p><p>"I think I need to go lie down." she murmurs, and rubs at her brow. She's hot and flustered. </p><p> </p><p>"Of course." he gazes upon her with something close to envy. "I regret not being able to join you. I would… Enjoy watching you work." </p><p> </p><p><em> Creators </em>. He thinks she's going to go relieve this pent-up desire herself. That's not what she had in mind, but it's not a terrible idea. Perhaps it'll help sate her want until he sees her later. Probably. It always does. </p><p> </p><p>But the idea of him relaxed into her couch, eyes alight with fascination; watching her please herself. Oh no, it sends a fresh ripple of lust through her. </p><p> </p><p>"Tell the others that we got chased out of the kitchens or something." she mumbles, "They'll probably go to the tavern and leave you be to return to work, then." </p><p> </p><p>"Certainly. I will wait until the hall is quietened for the evening, and come to you." he promises. She breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Already she's excited - how is she going to be able to keep her mind occupied for a few hours, knowing he will visit her tonight? </p><p> </p><p>She goes to leave the alcove, but stops. Turns back to him one more time, to gently cup his neck between her hands and draw him down to kiss her. Just one more, a short and gentle kiss. Then, she lets him go. </p><p> </p><p>"Enjoy your evening." she says with a polite but teasing smile. </p><p> </p><p>"And you, Inquisitor." </p><p>━◦○◦━◦○◦━ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟━◦○◦━◦○◦━</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll be posting the final chapter of this tomorrow, and by then maybe I'll have the next little trio of smut fics ready to go hehe</p><p>Please let me know if you enjoyed it with a kudos or comment &lt;3</p><p>Find me on tumblr under the name bubble-bones for more Dragon Age/Solas love!</p><p>Also check out my Ao3 for other Solavellan fics I have written: When in Orlais, a WIP smut short and The Hunt, a much longer fic!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>━◦○◦━◦○◦━ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟━◦○◦━◦○◦━</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the evening goes painfully slow for Solas. It takes every ounce of restraint in his body not to follow off after the Inquisitor's hasty retreat to her chambers. He could not even begin to describe how much he wanted to, there and then in that alcove behind the kitchens, to give her the release she so craved. Fenedhis, her kiss was so sweet. Seeing the twisted look of desire upon her beautiful face, hearing his name whispered upon her tongue. It had been a long time since he'd felt so wanted by anyone. </p><p> </p><p>Alas he does exactly as he'd promised. Taking a moment to regain his composure - and will his own arousal under control - he then returns to the Great Hall empty-handed. The other men who'd been his opponents earlier the evening in Wicked Grace look simultaneously surprised to see him return without Ariwyn, and appalled he brings no drinks with him. </p><p> </p><p>"Where's our lovely Inquisitor gone?" Dorian queries, setting his chin upon his fist. Solas doesn't like the look on his face - the suggestive smirk that up turns one edge of his silly curled moustache. </p><p> </p><p>"Unfortunately she felt somewhat faint," he responds with ease. After his play earlier, he's surprised more of them don't attempt to call him out on lying, now that they know he's good at it. <em> They don't even know half of it. </em> "She has retired to her quarters for the evening." </p><p> </p><p>"Bah." the Iron Bull huffs, rubbing at his pointed chin. "She's a good drinking buddy. Real funny when she's tipsy. Oh well, I'm gonna get out of here and get a real drink." </p><p> </p><p>"Take me with you!" cries Dorian as he scrambles to get to his feet, "I could do with a good glass in victory." </p><p> </p><p>Blackwall rolls his eyes. "You won one game, mage."</p><p> </p><p>"And I did it spectacularly fast and well." </p><p> </p><p>"An Angel of Death was drawn." Varric says dryly, though he's smiling. "Alright, let's go drink. I already know the answer, but: Chuckles, you coming with?"</p><p> </p><p>"No thank you." Solas says quickly. He really needs to stop responding to that ridiculous nickname. "I will remain here and see to some work I should've taken care of this morning." </p><p> </p><p>This morning when he got lost in his painting, <em> again</em>. It is so very difficult to adjust to time and its rules, after having lived an age without it. Before, he could have remained at his work for days, weeks maybe, and not batted an eyelid. But now, he's supposed to be at least pretending to be normal. And yet he'd been caught by the Inquisitor, and surprised when she'd told him it was afternoon. How was it that time could slip away so easily? </p><p> </p><p>"Suit yourself." Blackwall says gruffly as he gets to his feet. "I could do with a drink, especially after such crushing defeat." </p><p> </p><p>"That's the spirit!" Bull says with a grin. Dorian glances upward at him once with a quirked brow, and the qunari shrugs. "What?" </p><p> </p><p>Solas bids them farewell and heads into the rotunda. It's certainly not very private in here, what with it opened up to the library and aviary up above, but it's much quieter than the Great Hall. He lets out a small breath of relief. After so long of being alone, it is still taking him time to adjust to the sheer amount of people the Inquisition has amassed. And in such a short while, too. It really is quite incredible, when he thinks about it. She is. She is marvellous and intelligent, and <em> enthralling</em>. He had been such a fool earlier; watching her so blatantly as she used those precious little teeth to bite at her food in nibbles, swallow, lick her lush lips with that delightful tongue of hers. He'd barely gotten his mind under control in time for his turn to come around once more in their game. Not only had he risked the others realising where his gaze was aimed, but also risked losing the entire round entirely - and his pride would not let it happen a second time that same evening. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn't been surprised that she'd noticed him cheat. After all, he'd caught her staring at his hands quite shamelessly, but decided it would've been better to keep it to himself. He could only begin to imagine what filthy thoughts had been consuming her until she came upon the realisation that he had cheated. He lets out a breath. Allowing his thoughts to even wander near her and coming upon anything is a dangerous and slippery slope. Fenedhis, she is probably up in her chambers even now, spread against those gaudy silk sheets, fingers between her legs, little breathy whispers tumbling from her lips. And here he is, down here, simply imagining it. </p><p> </p><p>He tries to focus on his work. On tidying up the mess he'd left his paints and brushes in that afternoon when he'd left Cole to speak with her. On organising the stacks of books he'd loaned from the library upstairs in a desperate attempt to brush up on everything that had happened in the time he slept. He decides that the best cause of action was perhaps getting stuck into a task that preoccupied his mind and not just his hands. And so when he's done tidying up, he takes the top tome from the pile, and sits at his desk. It is an interesting if somewhat inaccurate study on spirits by a Tevinter Magister that Dorian had recommended. "He is such a pompous, bastard old man in person," the human mage had told him as he handed the book over, "Yet I find his work quite fascinating. You may enjoy it, if you can get past his excruciatingly long authorial note." </p><p> </p><p>It certainly had been excruciatingly long. Solas had not enjoyed flicking through a good dozen pages on the author's personal achievements in his fairly short life - lengthy to everyone around him, but to Solas, such achievements are laughable. But that had been days ago, when he'd started this book. He'd been looking forward to finally settling into the first few chapters. And yet now that he's here, he can't bring himself to concentrate. The words before him seem to blur together, and he's sure the Thedasian common-tongue is still easy to read for him. But he's read the same sentence three times and it still doesn't click with him. </p><p> </p><p>He's distracted. And very badly. </p><p> </p><p>Of course he is. The most beautiful and delightful creature he's met in a very long time practically <em> begged </em> him to go to her and satisfy her urges, and yet he's sat here trying to read a <em> book</em>. He runs a hand over his scalp and tries once more to focus. But it doesn't work. Against his chest, he can feel his heart beginning to pound. He could be up there with her, secluded and all alone. Before he can even stop it, his mind is envisioning all sorts of questionable images that he should not be having about the Inquisitor. Her, laying with her coppery hair splayed out behind her, legs parted, a breathy and wordless plea on her wonderful lips. Her, on her knees before him, precious little fingers running across his stomach. He groans, and buries his face in his hands. </p><p> </p><p>He certainly was surprised when he'd found out she was inexperienced. Not just that, but untouched. It didn't excite him anymore than the mere idea of being intimate with her; it was more a shock, a kick of a reminder to slow down, and take his time. Enjoy and savour her, ensure her first experiences of such a new and raw passion are as memorable as he could make them. He can still feel the burning desire in his veins when she'd first told him she wanted him, not anyone else. She wanted him to be the one to take her maidenhood. He runs his tongue over his teeth - should a man like him even deserve it? Surely he'd take her beautiful purity and taint it with the eventual hurt that had to come. And yet he hadn't stopped her from kissing him in that first dream they shared. He didn't stop <em> himself </em>from kissing her last night. He didn't stop when he woke up, and went to her chambers like she'd pleaded. He didn't stop when he spread her legs, and pleasured her like she so desired. What a fool he is turning into. </p><p> </p><p>A little huff leaves him. And then, he tries, once more, to focus. To push aside any thoughts of Ariwyn, and of her upstairs desperately chasing off her lust on her own. He isn't a young and sex-maddened man anymore; he has some restraint buried somewhere. </p><p> </p><p>Even if it is buried very deep, and he is having a very hard time finding it. </p><p> </p><p>He takes it slow; a million times slower than he would usually read. He makes certain to read each word on its own, repeat it in his head so that he's paying attention, like a test of himself. By the time the first introductory sentence has finally made sense, he presses his fingers to his eyelids. None of this makes sense. Not the book, but <em> him</em>. Nothing has been able to so thoroughly destroy his indomitable focus in so, so very long. And he has known her for such a little amount of time - perhaps a few months for her is a far greater time than how he would consider it. She has imprinted such an irremovable mark on his heart and soul, and he fears that. She cannot change his plans. She <em> cannot.  </em></p><p> </p><p>But as time ticks on, and he finally manages to settle into some semblance of concentration, he realises his desires don't subside. Even as he's taking in this utter nonsense written by an unremarkable Tevinter mage, part of his mind is preoccupied elsewhere. It is unconscious and unreasonable whilst the rest of him is trying to focus, but it feels as if that very same part is desperate to remind him that the time is lessening. The time until he can reasonably sneak up to her chambers. He shouldn't go. He should stay down here and focus - tell the Inquisitor it was a mistake to become so entangled. Perhaps now, he can detangle what he's started. If he continues down this path, he isn't sure he could. </p><p> </p><p>But as the Great Hall quietens, and he begins to see less people in the library above his head, his desire begins only to grow again. Really, he should be able to keep it under control and focus. Yet he begins to feel the telltale signs of his arousal beneath his trousers at the idea of finally joining her upstairs. Even if he does not find relief of his own while with her, he certainly enjoyed helping her find hers last night. It had been a while since he had tasted a woman, and certainly longer since he had tasted one so sweet. He wonders if she would be simply content with that again tonight, or if she would ask for more with natural progression. Solas reminds himself with a little huff of frustration that patience is his most valuable asset now. He cannot rush into things and feel the crushing reality of her potential regret. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, when it is almost silent in the Great Hall, he closes his book and takes a short, cursory walk. Good riddance to the fool, he thinks. Most books in this age on magical matters originate from Tevinter, and the things they <em> think </em>they know are always so inherently incorrect. </p><p> </p><p>There are so few people here that it might even be possible to sneak through now. But he reminds himself of patience, and goes outside for a while to stretch his legs. The air is cold and calming, and it helps him regain some semblance of focus. Perhaps he should've simply come out here to read. Finally, those remaining in the Great Hall filter out to bed for the evening. The only ones remaining are soldiers - yawning, rather tired looking soldiers at that. It shouldn't be difficult to fool them; ensuring to be quick and quiet, he approaches the door to the tower, and slips through. As he begins the long climb up the stairs, he realises there's not just desire pulsing through his veins, but excitement. An eagerness to see her again. To hold her in his arms and kiss her breath away. To devour her beautiful body and help her to savour the pleasure she's been denying herself since becoming a woman. He finds himself climbing the stairs at a faster pace. </p><p> </p><p>Finally he reaches the short landing before the Inquisitor's chambers. The door at the end feels like both a million miles away and simultaneously right before him. For a moment he takes a breath, and regains his composure. Then, knocks with his knuckles. Two quick taps, then another two, just like he had last night. She most likely isn't expecting anyone else this late, but he's curious to know if she'll notice. </p><p> </p><p>The door swings open and he half expects the same greeting she had given him last night. When she'd practically pounced on him and rubbed up against him, kissed him so hard he forgot what air was for. This time, he's both pleasantly and disappointingly surprised at her composure. She's copying his signature resting stance, he realises; hands clasped behind her back, and a smile unique to hers with a cocked head. </p><p> </p><p>"Good evening." she greets. Her voice is positively fit for songbird for how elated she sounds to see him. It certainly makes a change from her eager desperation, and it is a welcome change. Yet he isn't sure which he likes more. </p><p> </p><p>"Good evening, Inquisitor." he's trying not to let his amusement show. And he's falling miserably - he's already openly smiling. "I trust you are… Well?" </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes flash with such raw and obvious desire it sends a shot of excitement through him. </p><p> </p><p>"I am." she says with a smug smile. "Thank you for asking." </p><p> </p><p>He can only imagine what a spectacular sight that would've made. A woman so inexperienced could've only ever known pleasure with her own fingers - and he was sure she had to be a master at finding it on her own. He wonders what beautiful paintings of pleasure her face would've made when she swiftly found her own release with expertise. </p><p> </p><p>"Come in." she draws back the door further and cocks her head to the stairs. He gratefully enters, and the door closes over behind him. </p><p> </p><p>"I must say," he begins with a punctuated and carefully-considered tone. He must remain neutral, lest he admit to both of them the unruly nature of his lust. "I am surprised to see you so…"</p><p> </p><p>"Calm?" she offers with a smile once they reach the top of the stairs. The hearth is already lit with a warm orange glow, hot and fiery. The doors to the balconies are closed, this time. Evidently she's already had to ward off the cold of a post-high already. She's smiling at him again. "I can be quite collected and serious when I have to be." </p><p> </p><p>His brow quirks. "When you have to be?" he echoes, curiously. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes." she guides him over to the fire, where she's engrossed in watching it for a while. "You told me I must make my decision while completely sober and in control of my inhibitions. I am both."</p><p> </p><p>"Ah." he breathes, and tightens his own grip on his wrist behind his back. "And, if I may ask… What is your decision regarding this matter?" </p><p> </p><p>She glances his way. Her beautiful green eyes are shining almost hazel in the orange glow of the fire - how did he know they're green? - as she studies his face. He too takes the opportunity to study the landscape of hers, framed by heavy curtains of ginger hair. The sharp bow of her thin upper lip, framed beneath by one of a thicker nature, that she catches between her teeth on frequent occasion. The beautiful bump of her curved nose, marked by the dark ivy colour of her vallaslin. They're shaped to resemble Mythal's branches - he knows the patterns all too well not to recognise them. They curve up over her brow and around her eyes, curving beneath across her delicate cheekbones. There's a mole and a pairing little freckle beneath the curve of the vallaslin under her left eye. For the rest of her skin, it is unmarked of blemishes, smooth and soft under his fingers. He wants to touch her. </p><p> </p><p>But he will not. Not until he has her consent. She parts her lips to speak. </p><p> </p><p>"I want you to make love to me." </p><p> </p><p>He swallows. There's a thick lump in his throat - is that his heart, mayhap, that's now pounding in his ears. Somehow, he's able to keep his cool, at least on the surface. Beneath, he's a raging tempest of lust and passion. He wants her so badly. He wants to peel away her clothes and take her on that ridiculous Orlesian-style bed behind them, hard and fast and desperate. But he <em> can't</em>. He must restrain himself so as to not hurt her, to make her memories of tonight as enjoyable as they can be. </p><p> </p><p>He wets his lips with his tongue, and looks down at the fire. She certainly had listened to him, and made her decision when she was not desperate for release, whether it be by him or herself. And thus he could respect this decision. It is only a matter now of deciding whether he had the strength to walk away now, and save greater hurt later for them both. </p><p> </p><p>"Do you… Do you not want to?" he hears her murmur. Oh, she sounds confused. Hurt and confused. He glances her way and she's staring at her feet, brows twisted. Her hands are doing that thing again, where her fingers twirl around one another and pull. Surely that is uncomfortable? He comes forward and catches her hands in his, and stops it. </p><p> </p><p>"I-" he begins, but stops himself. He wants to bring a smile to her face - to please her and himself. And yet he stands there indecisive. The longer he ponders, the more confused she becomes. He does not like the look of a frown on her face; his thumb goes to where her brows are drawn tight, and soothes them apart. "Of course that is what I want." he decides. <em> Fool!</em> And yet when the smile spreads immediately onto her lips, he cannot stop the flip his heart does in his chest. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm glad." she whispers, and squeezes his fingers in hers. "I was scared you were going to turn around and leave." </p><p> </p><p>The hand at her brow trails downward. To sink between the soft locks of her hair, and loop his fingers around her nape of her neck. He draws her to him, and presses a small yet gentle kiss to her brow. He does not wish to see it creased again. Unless they're twisted up in pleasure, of course; that he would not mind seeing. </p><p> </p><p>It is such an intimate gesture, he realises when he draws away. Solas looks down upon her and into her eyes; those brilliant, beautiful eyes that stare up at him with an adoration he doesn't deserve. Her arms are looped around his waist and her chest is pressed to his. It is such a warm and loving embrace that he wonders if he is dreaming, at first. Seeing some sort of shade of her in his journeys in the Fade. Imagining making love to her. But no, he is here with her, and the desire on her face is so very evident it strikes at his own with a burning hot iron. </p><p> </p><p>He detangles himself from her for merely enough space to begin the slow undoing of the buttons on her jacket. She wears the very same outfit she had worn to dinner. He wonders if she had changed, at all. Or if the smalls she wears underneath this otherwise-simple outfit are still stained with her earlier desire. </p><p> </p><p>"Solas?" she murmurs as another button comes away. She doesn't sound uncertain as if she wants him to stop, like he thought she might. Instead, it is posed to him like a regular question. As if they were merely in the rotunda and she has another academic query. </p><p> </p><p>He hums. "Yes, vhenan?" </p><p> </p><p>He knows the term will get her smiling. It does. It's a smug and satisfied little curl of her lips, and it does something wild to the arousal between his legs. </p><p> </p><p>"Have you…" she bites her lip. He wonders if she realises how much he wishes to do the same. "Have you ever had many partners?" </p><p> </p><p>His brows raise. A curious question, but not really outrageous, considering their current situation. He hums again as he mulls over how he might answer her question. Besides, he is busy focusing on the task at hand. The final button comes away, and he eases the jacket from her shoulders. She wears just a thin linen shirt beneath, and a breastband. Despite him having seen her completely bare the night prior, her cheeks are a lovely shade of rose when she realises how thin her shirt really is. </p><p> </p><p>"In the past, yes." he decides upon. "When I was a younger man. Though it has been quite some time since I had the privilege of laying with another. Especially one such as beautiful as yourself." </p><p> </p><p>Her cheeks grow even brighter. </p><p> </p><p>"Sweet-talker," she giggles, and it's a wonderful sound. Then, when her laugh fades into a smile, she cocks her head. "You seem to place a lot of value in this." </p><p> </p><p>"In what?" he mirrors her wordless query by leaning his head in the opposite direction. "In making love? In joining with another?" </p><p> </p><p>"Y-Yes. That."</p><p> </p><p>The coyness in her smile delights him. He runs a thumb across her jaw, and she turns upward to look at him. He truly doesn't deserve the way she looks at him. </p><p> </p><p>"Because it is invaluable." he tells her. "It is unlike anything else in this world. It is not merely about pleasure and desire. It is an intimacy that bares not only your body to your partner, but your soul. It is an act of absolute trust and devotion."</p><p> </p><p>She seems taken aback by his answer. He wonders if that was all she thought he considered this as; a means to seek pleasure and nothing but. Yet he believes in everything he had said. But then she smiles - a genuine and alluring wide smile. He wishes to capture the sight of it and keep it amongst his memories forever. </p><p> </p><p>And yet while his words seem to appease her, it does nothing to quell the conflict within him. Without thought, he'd admitted the value of such an act to her. And by it, and following through with his promise to lay with her, he will only prove to them both how much she truly means to him. </p><p> </p><p>"You have the soul of a poet." she mumbles. </p><p> </p><p>"I have not even begun to bare my soul to you yet. You possess impressive insight if you believe that." </p><p> </p><p>She barks a laugh. He cannot help but smile. By now his fingers are gently tugging at the loose fabric of her shirt, but her own quickly grasp his. He had been wondering how long it would be before she changed her mind - considered the reality of the situation and decided she cannot. That she will not have him. </p><p> </p><p>Yet she's still smiling at him.</p><p> </p><p>"Why don't you leave this to me?" she suggests with a little grin. It's cheeky and paired with a suggestive wiggle of her brows. It surprises him, really. Certainly, she knows how to take command, for if she didn't she would not be Inquisitor. But from her mostly demure response to their intimacy so far, it comes as a pleasant surprise. </p><p> </p><p>His lips twitch upward. "Certainly." he says, and lets his hands fall to his sides. "What would you have me do?" </p><p> </p><p>She hums. Taps her alluring bottom lip with a finger, and then lets out something of a little giggle of delight when she comes upon her decision. She takes his hand and tugs him after her. She guides him to the plush-looking couch against the rail overlooking the stairs. </p><p> </p><p>"Sit here." she instructs, and her voice contains a layer of command that she only speaks to him with in the midst of combat. Somehow it excites him in a way he'd never felt before. He had come here tonight expecting to be the one to take control, but he is certainly not turned away from the suggestion that she might enjoy it. </p><p> </p><p>At least for a little while. </p><p> </p><p>"Of course, Inquisitor." he teases. That lovely little flush spread from ear to ear is making him smile. </p><p> </p><p>And so he sits. Gets comfortable, sinks against the plush backing of the couch behind him, and crosses his ankle over his knee. She seems taken a little aback by his languid nonchalance. But then she grins, cocks her head at him. She doesn't say anything, if she had been meaning to. She simply gives him that dazzling smile, and steps closer. Close enough that he could touch her if he reached out but he keeps his hands to himself. For now. </p><p> </p><p>And then her fingers hook into the fabric of her shirt and pull. It comes up and over her head, and pools at the ground behind her feet. He had certainly enjoyed gazing upon her bare body last night, but in his haste to bring her pleasure, he hadn't the time he would've liked. But now, as her fingers gingerly wind away her breastband, he's able to study her in length. Gaze upon her with pursed lips and an intrigued stare; admire the soft and supple skin of her breasts in the warm glow of the fire. The taut and tender surface of her stomach. The tiny freckles that cluster in small groups like constellations across her chest. He notices that her chest rises and falls quite quickly with her breaths - she's nervous, understandably so, but she's doing quite well to act despite it. </p><p> </p><p>"May I touch you?" he asks. Her teeth catch that wonderfully plump bottom lip, and she nods coyly. She comes a step or two closer and he unfolds his legs so that she might come to stand between them. The very tips of his fingers have barely caressed the surface of her belly when her body jerks in reflex. </p><p> </p><p>"Y-You're cold." she laughs, and he gives her an apologetic look. </p><p> </p><p>"My mistake." he casts a little spell and goes to touch her again, "Better?" he asks. </p><p> </p><p>She's chewing her lip again. "Mhm." she hums. </p><p> </p><p>He trails his fingers upward, exploratively. They venture through the valley of her breasts and admire the sharpness of her collarbone. Then down once more, feathery light across the peak of her breast. There it is - the delicious little gasp of surprise that forces her to lose her lip between her teeth. He hums, caresses her breast in his palm; rubs his thumb back and forth over the hardened surface of her nipple. Her breath is coming much faster now, in short pants that drive every ounce of desire in him right to the stiffening length between his legs. </p><p> </p><p>"S-Stop." he hears her whisper. Immediately he does as asked, and withdraws his touch. As much as he wants her now - fenedhis, he wants her - he wonders if she's finally decided to make him leave. </p><p> </p><p>"Is something wrong?" he asks. Why? Why is he asking? He should be pleased that she's come to her senses and wants him gone. </p><p> </p><p>But she draws him back in with that little smile. </p><p> </p><p>"You were about to distract me." she whispers, "I had a plan and you were taking my mind off it." </p><p> </p><p>"Oh?" he quirks a brow. Why is he playing along? Was he not almost elated at the idea only a moment ago that she might send him out her door? </p><p> </p><p>Ariwyn releases a little hum. He doesn't recognise the tune she sings - nor does he really care when he realises that she is doing so unconsciously while she returns her focus to her task. The task of undoing the laces of her pants. He watches with baited breath - he doesn't even realise he's holding it until she loosens the strings enough to shimmy them over her hips. They go downward and reveal the lovely curves of her thighs, her knees which bear a few small purple bruises, the smoothness of her calves. She steps out from them, and inadvertently comes closer. </p><p> </p><p>"Well?" she asks with a small and unsure laugh. That distracting lip - it's in her teeth <em> again</em>. </p><p> </p><p>"You are exquisite." he tells her, and her chest stutters for her breath for a moment. He sits up and runs his fingers across the wonderfully soft skin of her belly, trails them down over the band of her smalls at her hip and down to squeeze her soft thigh. She truly is a marvel. She rivals the beauty of the women of Arlathan - and theirs was a product of devotion and magic. Ariwyn had been gifted with a rare beauty; one both of body and soul. </p><p> </p><p>And he is so thoroughly enticed by both. </p><p> </p><p>She lets out a little breathless laugh. Her fingers come to squeeze at his shoulders, and he is ready and waiting for when she comes down to kiss him. He had been waiting for the moment she would come and find his lips of her own accord; for when she would make the mistake once more of capturing his affections. If she were wise, she'd discourage this. If he were, so should he. He supposes wisdom is something he has always aspired to - and after never quite reaching it, he settled for pride instead. The pride of loving her even though he should not deserve to. The pride of savouring the delicious taste of her lips and the caress of her tongue; the enrapturing sound of her moan against him. </p><p> </p><p>And then her lips part from his. She gazes down upon him with a love that warms his heart. Her fingers go downward; press against his chest, travel to the belt around his waist. Something in his chest tightens - his heart? Is he nervous? How can he have any right to feel such a thing? She has just bared her naked body to a man for only the second time, and <em> he </em>feels butterflies in his belly. He barely has time to consider it, thankfully. Her fingers deftly unfasten the belt and it drops to the couch. And then they tug at his sweater, and he sits up to help her pull it free. For a split, agonising moment, he cannot see her for it going over his head. But then he's free to pull it from his arms and discard it to the ground with her clothes. Something in him demands to kiss her. And so he does. </p><p> </p><p>He tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her to him. Presses to her with a hungry open-mouthed kiss; a sudden ferocity has overtaken him and he isn't sure where it has come from. All he knows is that he wants to devour her until she's shaking in his arms; steal her breath until she's panting with a fierce desperation. He pulls and she falls against him, straddling his lap and pressing her lovely soft breasts to his undershirt. That must go too, so he can feel her skin on his, but he doesn't want to break away from her. </p><p> </p><p>"Solas," he hears her whisper and it encourages his arousal now pressing between her legs. Maybe that's why; maybe she can feel what she does to him. He smiles against her lips - there's no <em> maybe </em>about it. She absolutely must. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, vhenan?" he asks with one more kiss. It is a far softer one; a gentle peck of her lips, and the contrast between these two kisses leaves her undoubtedly confused. When she leans back to look at him, her brows are all twisted up. Not in a frown, though; it's a beautiful picture of unbridled lust underlined with a thick dusting of a flush on her cheeks. Her eyelids are half-lidded, dark lashes almost fanning her cheeks. Her lips parted, breath coming through in short gasps and warming his face. He knows there's a raging, pent-up, pure <em> want </em>inside her and it is driving her mad. </p><p> </p><p>"You need to take off your clothes." is what she finally settles on, "Quickly." </p><p> </p><p>He is openly smiling at her now. </p><p> </p><p>"Why?" he queries. It is an obvious question with an obvious answer. They both know it, and so she looks at him like he has two heads. </p><p> </p><p>"Stop looking at me with that evil little smile." she bats at his shoulder but she's smiling too. "You know why." </p><p> </p><p>"I wish to hear you say it." </p><p> </p><p><em> That lip</em>. She's biting it again; her fingers are squeezing so sharply into his bare shoulders that it should hurt, but he's distracted. Distracted by the subtle and slow roll of her hips down on his. He wonders if she's trying to do it without him noticing. He does, of course, for the sharp spike of pleasure that jolts through his system when he feels her heat press down on him. Fenedhis, she's wet and wanting, and he can feel it even through his trousers. His fingers run up across her thighs and squeeze at her hips. Somehow, he's able to exercise a modicum of restraint, and hold her still. </p><p> </p><p>"Why, vhenan?" he asks again, leaning up close to her. She's panting, chest rubbing against his with every desperate breath. She's so impatient and it's only making him lust for her more. Yet he wants to hear her say it one more time - one more confirmation of her wishes. </p><p> </p><p>"Because I need you." she whispers, voice low and thick with lust. "I want you to make love to me, now. Please." </p><p> </p><p>He releases her hip with one hand to capture her chin in his fingers. To press a kiss to her lips, to feel and hear her moan both when he rolls his hips up against hers. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, Solas," her brow is pressed against his, eyes squeezed shut. "Please."</p><p> </p><p>"Go to the bed, vhenan. Wait for me." </p><p> </p><p>The moment he releases his grip on her she's up from his lap. He has to bite back his laugh when she races to the bed and scrambles upon it, turning swiftly to watch his approach. To his feet he gets, and manages to keep his pace a little bit more restrained. Fenedhis, she is so lovely. Hidden behind those silly translucent curtains, watching him with wide, beautiful eyes. She, despite her nakedness, doesn't feel the urge to hide herself away under the sheets and it warms his heart. He would've thought she'd be hasty to disappear beneath them. </p><p> </p><p>His fingers pry away his undershirt, draping it over the ornate footboard of the bed. He knows she's staring at him - quite shamelessly too, lips parted and eyes greedily taking him in. He knows he is certainly not the most built of elves, but there is some muscle, thanks to his days as something akin to a warrior in Arlathan. He's sure she is merely staring because she has never seen a man in such a manner before. </p><p> </p><p>"You're beautiful." he hears her murmur, and for a moment thinks he's misheard. He glances up at her with a quirked brow and she ducks her head beneath her hair, a coy smile playing at her lips. "Your body, I mean. Not to say the rest of you isn't. I just-"</p><p> </p><p>He chuckles. Her nervous tangent comes to a halt and she looks at him once more with something of an uncertain gaze. </p><p> </p><p>"Thank you." he says, "I have not had such a compliment before." </p><p> </p><p>Her jaw goes slack. "Were your previous partners just blind, or…?" </p><p> </p><p>Again, he barks a laugh. He is so free with his amusement, tonight. He hums in consideration as he undoes the lacing of his trousers. She's chewing on her lip again while she watches him. </p><p> </p><p>"No." he says, "Or at least I certainly do not believe so." </p><p> </p><p>One of her brows quick and a silly smile plays at her lips. "That sounds almost like you don't know for certain. I didn't take you as the type of man to do the whole one-night stand sort of thing." </p><p> </p><p>He smiles. "We were all young, once." his trousers come loose over his hips, "Thankfully over time your priorities change. And thus I am somewhat more restrained with my urges now." </p><p> </p><p>"Hm." she hums in contemplation. As if she's thinking of ways to prove that wrong. Yet she becomes easily distracted when he allows his trousers to fall to the ground at his feet, and he steps towards the bed. He pulls back the curtain. His arousal is obvious, and she's certainly not coyly averting her gaze like he thought she might. And then she looks up at him - at his face. His heart stops when he sees a little flash of apprehension in her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>"Are you alright, vhenan?" he asks. She swallows a lump in her throat, and nods. </p><p> </p><p>"Y-Yes, I just…" she's doing it again - does her lip not ache from how much she bites it? "Just a little nervous, is all." </p><p> </p><p>He lifts his arm, extends his hand out to her. "It is alright." he swears, and he means it. "I will do everything in my power to ensure you enjoy this. But the alternative is still there. We do not have to do this if you are unsure." </p><p> </p><p>"I'm not unsure!" she says quickly, and puts her hand in his. She's on her knees, so close he could lean up on the bed and kiss her. She breathes softly. "Will it hurt?" </p><p> </p><p>His fingers close around hers, and he presses a small kiss to her knuckles. He isn't sure, not really. Before her, all of his partners had some experience. He had heard stories, however, of how it felt for a woman for the first time. He runs his thumb soothingly over the back of her palm. </p><p> </p><p>"I will do what I can to ensure it doesn't." </p><p> </p><p>Ariwyn nods. Perhaps he should be telling her it might - warn her in an attempt to scare her away from the idea. But even still, if it prevents her from laying with him tonight, he does not wish to be the cause of hesitation in the way for future happiness. He runs his tongue over his teeth. Why is he still fighting with himself now, when she is here before him? Wanting him and trusting him? He wants her just as much. He wants her. </p><p> </p><p>"I want you." she whispers. Almost as if she can read his mind - it startles him a little and breaks him away from his thoughts. It's such a simple little sentence, but it does wonders to dust away his doubts. He's reminded once more of his lust, and of hers. Of the love she wants them to make. </p><p> </p><p>He puts a knee on the bed to reach up to her lips. To wrap his arms around her waist and crush her to his chest - to feel the delightful rub of her bare breasts on his skin. She seems to enjoy it, too, for the wonderful mewl that tumbles from her lips. In one smooth and easy motion he turns her, lays her down so that her head is comfortable against the plush pillows at the top of the bed. He does not hesitate to follow her, to chase away her breath with his lips and tongue; to feel the burning in his lungs when she takes away his. It feels like a dream. To have her beneath him like this, to be pressed down against her, to feel the warmth of her heat on his cock. She's still wearing those smalls - the same ones that she had gotten wet with desire in that alcove hours ago. </p><p> </p><p>A sharp breath comes out of her when he moves down. Kisses a trail down her belly and nips at her skin, peels away the band of her undergarments. She slides one leg out of them with ease, but they get caught around her other ankle. He doesn't care to try to free them - too preoccupied with kissing the delicious want between her thighs. Her back arches almost immediately, pushing her hips closer to his face; a wonderful cry of his name rings in his ears. He suckles at her clit in the same manner he'd learned quite quickly she adores last night. Her body positively sings in approval, twisting around, fingers clenching the once neat sheets between them. He can't tear his eyes away from her, even if he knows he can help her reach a deeper pleasure if he focused on his task. Watching how she squirms from his minimal ministrations; how she tosses back her head amongst the pillows, how her jaw slacks with a low moan as he licks her heat. Fenedhis, she is simply enchanting. </p><p> </p><p>He pays close attention to how she might react when he brings his hand up to her core - gently sinks one finger into her. A half-whimper catches in her throat, her shoulders tense. He considers withdrawing entirely until she lets out a pant of a breath; he eases it in deeper and she's biting hard on that lip of hers again. Cautious, he begins a slow and steady rocking motion in and out of her, and makes certain to shower her clit with affection from his mouth. It isn't long before he has her panting again, her hips lifting up off the bed of their own accord. Testingly, a second finger eases in with the first, and a gasp tears from her. The pace continues without pause and there's no complaint from her. Only more delightful sounds of pleasure that send violent desire to the hardness of his cock. </p><p> </p><p>"A-Ah, Solas…" she mewls, and he hums in question. "I just… This feels…" </p><p> </p><p>He withdraws from her delicious heat only for a moment to ask, "It feels…? What? Will you not finish that sentence for me, vhenan?" </p><p> </p><p>And then he returns his tongue to her clit. With one slow and languid caress, she's shuddering against him. </p><p> </p><p>"It feels so good." she whimpers, and finally she's able to twist her head up to glance down at him. The look on her face… If he could capture a memory forever, it would be this. Her parted lips from which she pants and cries her desperate pleasure; the simple and pure want in those deep eyes of hers; the hasty rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes. </p><p> </p><p>He presses one final kiss to her heat, and comes up to kiss her lips. She moans against him, clutching at the nape of his neck. Her nails are so sharply digging into his skin, but he doesn't mind. In fact it only helps to drive his arousal. </p><p> </p><p>"Are you ready for me, vhenan?" he asks, and she shivers beneath him. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes." </p><p> </p><p>His fingers grasp at her thigh, "Spread your legs," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her jaw, and once more it sends a wonderful shudder down her. He must remember how his words affect her for the future. <em> The future. </em>Will this happen again? Will he be foolish enough to let it continue after tonight? Or will he simply be unable to restrain himself, like he had failed so thoroughly thus far? </p><p> </p><p>Diligently she follows his instruction. Her legs part for him, and he helps her in guiding them up and around his waist. He groans when he feels the warmth of her core against his length. It takes every ounce of strength in him not to plunge right within her, to bury himself deep within that wonderful heat. Some animalistic desire within him would want for nothing more. But he's able to hold it down; to run his cock gently against her clit first, then her entrance. He's able to watch and hear the reactions such a thing can get out of her. Very gently, he pushes down into her core. She gasps, squeezes his shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>"Will you lend me your strength a moment, vhenan?" he breathes against her, and he can see the confusion evident across her face. "I must cast a spell." </p><p> </p><p>"A-A spell? Now?" </p><p> </p><p>He hums, and leans down to kiss her. Eagerly she kisses back, and entwines her fingers with his. He draws upon her given essence, offered to him through her breath and her touch, and suddenly she gasps. </p><p> </p><p>"What is that?" she whispers, and a heavy shudder wracks through her. </p><p> </p><p>He's curious. "How does it feel?" he asks. He has not cast a spell of this nature since long before he fell into his sleep. He feared it would not work at all. </p><p> </p><p>She squeezes her eyes shut and a little whimper leaves her lips. "It- Creators, Solas. It feels- <em> fuck.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>He has to bite back a laugh. He isn't even touching her, anymore. His spell is pleasuring her; a small hum of pressure against her sensitive clit. </p><p> </p><p>"Kiss me, vhenan?" he asks. His voice comes out softer than even he had heard in a very long while. She nods quickly, grasping him and pulling his lips down to hers. Her lips… So soft and warm and wonderful on his own. He can even taste a trace of her own arousal on them, and he is hit with a sudden hunger to taste her again. But be does not - he instead guides his length gently and slowly within her. She pants against him, whimpers softly when her folds begin to part to accommodate his girth. He does not move again until the spell helps soothe the pain upon her face. </p><p> </p><p>Solas is trying so very hard not to consider how it feels. She is so tight and warm and slick around him. His deep and ravenous desires demand him to press her down against this bed and claim her until she finds she cannot walk tomorrow morning. But the occasional, panicked noises of pain that leave her every so often is the one thing that reminds him that he cannot. That he absolutely cannot hurt her because of his base and desperate desires. </p><p> </p><p>And then finally, he is fully sheathed within her heat. Finally he allows himself to groan his pleasure into her shoulder; he had not considered how it might feel to be the first man to lay with her. She is so wonderfully tight and clenched around his manhood. Her thighs are pressed around him, fingers in his shoulders, soft breasts pressed against his chest. How had he found himself here? Surely a man like him does not deserve this. This wonderful intimacy. </p><p> </p><p>And he does not deserve how she is looking at him. He opens his eyes to gaze upon her, to check for panic, or pain, or fear. But on her face is the closest thing to bliss he has ever seen on her. She has a lazy but wide smile spread on her lips, eyes soft and adoring. He is overwhelmed with a sudden want to kiss her, and so he does. Soft, slow. He groans into her mouth, caresses her tongue with his own and feels his breath coming through short. </p><p> </p><p>"Ariwyn," he breathes against her, and she hums with that lovely smile. "Ar lath ma." </p><p> </p><p>Somehow her smile grows even wider. Her bottom lip quivers a little, and he catches her in another kiss before she can say it back. Or not at all. He doesn't know which would be worse; to hear her pour her heart out to him, or be forced to go without it. Would it change his plans if he let her say it? If he heard her tell him she loves him? </p><p> </p><p>He doesn't let her have the chance. He breaks away from their kiss to shift his hips against hers and she gasps. Absently, she rolls her hips, and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from letting out that unruly moan in his throat. But he takes her initiative as an indication. Slowly he withdraws his hips from hers, and then back. Suffice to say her reaction is delicious; a little whimpered gasp, a small arch of her back. He does it again and is rewarded with even more breathless noises of pleasure. </p><p> </p><p>Somehow, Solas is able to maintain some restraint. He moves slow, patient, ensuring everything he does is approved by her. It is only when he allows himself to move with a little more energy that she presses a hand to his chest and he halts immediately.</p><p> </p><p>"I am sorry, that was careless of me." he breathes, and swiftly presses an apologetic kiss to her cheek. How could he forget himself for even a moment? Her fingers, entwined with his against the sheets, squeeze his. </p><p> </p><p>"It's alright." she whispers, "I'm okay. It just surprised me, is all. It didn't hurt that much." </p><p> </p><p>"That much?" he echoes, and gazes upon her. She's chewing on her lip, uncertain. "My love, if I am hurting you, please tell me."</p><p> </p><p>For once, she is chewing on her lip for a purpose, he realises. It's quivering. She swallows, and it is only now that he notices the sheen of her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>"I-" for once he is tongue tied. He captures the first tear that rolls down his cheek with his thumb. "I am so sorry. I did not-" </p><p> </p><p>"No. Please don't apologise." she says, and then sniffles. He wants to kiss her and hold her at the same time; to reassure her until her tears end. But he wants to tear himself away from her and run - disappear from the Inquisition and Thedas itself so that he might never harm her again. "I'm just a little overwhelmed, I think."</p><p> </p><p>Ariwyn lets out a small laugh. How is she laughing? It is such a strange complication of the warmth of her smile and the salt of her tears, and it takes him aback. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry." she whispers. For what might she apologise for? She has done no harm. "Please don't stop. Please don't." </p><p> </p><p>"You are certain?" he asks. He feels a little squeeze of her legs around him. "We do not have to continue, if that is your wish." </p><p> </p><p>She's smiling again. "If you listened as well to me on the field as you are now, one of us would be dead." she jokes, and somehow it makes him smile as well. "Please, Solas. Don't stop." </p><p> </p><p>The wistfulness of her voice at the idea of him doing that very thing is enough to force him to kiss her; to will away her worries with a silent promise of fulfilling her wants and wishes. His fingers squeeze hers, and he fulfills her request. He resumes his slow rocking, reveling in the sensation of her tight warmth around him. All the while he savours her kiss, allows her to wind her arm around him and draw him close and not let go. She clenches his hand, and it is a clear and easy sign to tell him to stop. To give her a moment to catch her breath, to lose herself in the soft constant of his spell. And then when she kisses him again, he is safe once more to roll his hips against hers; to slide his length once more within the depths of her heat. </p><p> </p><p>"Solas?" she whispers against his lips. </p><p> </p><p>"Am I hurting you, vhenan?" he asks almost immediately, and is relieved when she shakes her head. </p><p> </p><p>"No, I-" she pauses to take a deep breath. Then, she looks up at him; gazes into his eyes with an uncertainty. "Can you… Uhm, can you move a little faster?" </p><p> </p><p>Heat sparks in the pits of his belly, but he forces himself to try to keep it under control. He smiles down at her. </p><p> </p><p>"How do you feel?" he hums. His free hand comes to brush a strand of damp hair from her sticky skin, and traverses downward. Over her soft breasts and along her side; claw very gently over her hip, squeeze the supple skin of her thigh. She looks as if she's trying very hard to keep a straight face. </p><p> </p><p>"It's starting to…" she bites on her lip. How much longer does she expect him to be able to refrain from biting it himself? "Well, I think I'm starting to enjoy it more." </p><p> </p><p>He smiles, and presses a kiss to her brow. </p><p> </p><p>"Your wish is my command." he tells her, and a little, delighted smile breaks out on her lips. "But you will tell me the moment it becomes too much." </p><p> </p><p>She nods quickly. "Of course."</p><p> </p><p>It is simply indescribable how much of a relief it is to hear her say it. As he begins with a slow and steady roll of his hips into hers, he kisses her, long and languid. Then to the edge of her lips, and then her jaw. Her head eagerly rolls back as his lips busy themselves at a sensitive spot behind her ear. He only learns this because of the little mewl she makes when his lips hover over it. He begins to set a faster pace, and it does wild things to his lust when he hears that the noises she makes now seem only positive. It's enthralling. </p><p> </p><p>This time, he is certain to watch himself. He will not allow his desires to overtake him again; he keeps a steady pace until she makes it clear she is ready for more. Her fingers will squeeze his, or her thighs around his hips. Or, as he likes it most, she will whisper for it in a voice practically dripping with lust. Before long she's gasping for breath amongst her delightful moans, and his own pants and groans join hers to make a sinful symphony of pleasure. </p><p> </p><p>"Ariwyn." he groans against her neck. In response she lets out a toe-curling mewl that sends a shot of arousal right down to the cock inside her. "These noises you make - I <em> adore </em> them. You absolutely enchant me." </p><p> </p><p>Something like a delighted giggle leaves her. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm glad I so <em> enchant </em> you." she breathes, and her breath hitches with a gasp after a particularly sharp thrust of his hips. "Ah! Dread Wolf take me… it feels so good." </p><p> </p><p>"No." he growls, and it seems to surprise her. He towers over her with a flat glare. "The Dread Wolf is not taking you. I am." </p><p> </p><p>She hums, and winds her arms around his neck. "Jealous of Fen'Harel, hm? I will be certain to cry only your name from now on." </p><p> </p><p>He comes down to kiss her hungrily. He tries to channel the rampant desire to fuck her into the mattress through that kiss; to devour her breath and make her whimper from his tongue alone. </p><p> </p><p>"Good." he breathes, fairly satisfied when she's short of air. It twists him up inside how little she truly knows; to her, she believes Fen'Harel a distant idea, a mere curse to an ancient myth. Yet he does not dislike it simply because it is the name of another man - he dislikes it because it is not what she should call him. The day she calls him the Dread Wolf is the day his plans will come crashing down around him. </p><p> </p><p>It is in that moment that he decides, while he is making sweet love to her, that she must never know. He cannot tell her his true nature. To her, he wishes to remain as Solas; the quiet if a little mysterious apostate; the man to whom she begged to be here, between her legs and kissing her like she is air itself. </p><p> </p><p>In a moment of distraction, she surprises him. Her leg is hooked around his waist, her fingers pressed against his chest, and then - in one sweeping motion, he finds himself backed against the mattress. She's astride him with a cheeky smile, and comes down to kiss him with an eagerness of someone who has just won. She revels in her little victory of gaining control, and he lets her. Enjoys it, in fact; she rolls her hips down against his as she needs to, with as much force and speed as she can take. When she stops abruptly for a gasp of breath or bites down hard on her lip, he stills the upward thrust of his hips and waits for her own motions once more before he grasps at her hips. </p><p> </p><p>When finally she reaches her pleasure - a feat he is impressed to see she's accomplished considering her nerves - it is a wonderful display. Her fingers twist up against his abdomen, and her back arches. A gasped cry of absolute bliss tears from her throat as she tosses back her head. He seizes his opportunity and grasps her, twists their bodies so that she is beneath his once more and drives every ounce of her release from her that he can. She's clinging to him and shuddering from the overwhelming pleasure rippling through her body, and just when she gasps his name for him to stop, is when it hits. His own high hits him with such a force he forgets to breathe; he chokes on his gasp and crushes her to the pillows beneath her head with a fierce kiss. One that she returns with a passion, clutching at him until she has to pant for breath so hard the rise and fall of her chest looks perhaps even painful. </p><p> </p><p>He feels as if his body is made of stone. Yet if he can feel how lethargic his muscles feel, so might she for how he is pressing on her. Unceremoniously he collapses to the bed beside her, trying unsuccessfully to catch his breath. What had he done? He had told himself from the start that their first kiss - the one prompted by her - was a mistake. Ill-considered and impulsive. And yet he kissed her again. He visited her in the middle of the night and pleasured her. And now, he has made such blissful love to her that he's terrified of what it means for the future. </p><p> </p><p>"Vhena-" he goes to ask, but swiftly catches his tongue. A smile tugs at his lips; she's already asleep. Head turned his way with such a serene calmness upon her face that it immediately soothes his worries. For now, at the very least.</p><p> </p><p>Solas is careful to slide the top sheet from beneath her, and tuck it over them both. He should leave; he should be gone by the time morning comes. But he cannot bring himself to leave this bed. He settles down beside her and rests his brow against hers. He winds an arm around her waist and comes as close as he can without disturbing her. </p><p> </p><p>As tired as he feels he cannot find sleep, for a while. Too haunted by his thoughts and fears, he merely gazes upon her. Admires the peaceful beauty upon her sleeping face, and finds a calmness of his own. He, finally, lets his eyes close over, and breathes deeply. </p><p> </p><p>And then he feels her shift. He cracks open an eye to see her roll over onto her side, and he hears her little hum of contentment as she snuggles up against him. </p><p> </p><p>"I love you too." she murmurs against his chest. For a moment, he thinks her words have the power to strike right through him, and shatter his heart in one blow. And then the warmth that washes over him immediately mends it together once more. The tenderness of her curled up against him and the simple warmth of her love is enough, for the moment, to let him forget. </p><p> </p><p>He is not Fen'Harel, nor for the moment. He is hers. </p><p> </p><p>"Rest well, vhenan." he whispers, and presses a kiss to her brow. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And there's the final chapter in this little trio! There will be more to come in the form of more shorts so if you'd like to see more, please consider bookmarking/saving my Ariwyn and Solas series. I hope you enjoyed!</p><p>Please let me know if you did enjoy it with a kudos or comment &lt;3</p><p>Find me on tumblr under the name bubble-bones for more Dragon Age/Solas love!</p><p>Also check out my Ao3 for other Solavellan fics I have written: When in Orlais, a WIP smut short and The Hunt, a much longer fic!</p>
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